


A Place to Grow

by casey270, SnowStormSkies



Series: Growth and Change [1]
Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Tommy Ratliff (Musician)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-21
Updated: 2013-03-21
Packaged: 2017-12-06 00:44:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/729729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casey270/pseuds/casey270, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowStormSkies/pseuds/SnowStormSkies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drink. Drugs. Sex. Rock and roll. Tommy thought he'd have it all, that he'd make it in New York in his band, in his life - take the world by a guitar chord and a  pick.<br/>Love. Romance. Sanctuary from the bullies of high school. Adam thought he'd find it in college, thought he'd find someone who knew and loved and wanted <i>him</i>.<br/>But sometimes life isn't fair, and you don't get what you think you want.  Sometimes you get what you need instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Place to Grow

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, QaFManiac for the wonderful artwork. Just look at the perfection of this banner! And thank you so much for changing things to fit the fic! You are amazing, bb! hopefully the story it inspired is close to what you had in mind. The art post is [here on dreanwidth](http://qafmaniac.dreamwidth.org/289612.html) & [here on LJ](http://qafmaniac.livejournal.com/224729.html). Make sure to tell her how amazing she is! 
> 
>  

Adam should have known. High school had been bad enough with the cliques and the jerks and the boring classes. Why had he thought college would be any better? Sure, the people are different, but most of the personalities are the same. And the classes are just as mind-numbing as ever.

He tries, though. He tries for his parents, who think he needs a degree to get anywhere. He tries for his kid brother, who may be an annoying asshole sometimes, but who needs him to be a positive example. He tries for all the people who’ve told him that only losers don’t go to college.

He tries for himself, because some part of him is hoping that college will be different. 

Somewhere, somehow, he’s hoping that with more people around, he’ll find that one person - the one who’ll be looking for him. High school hadn’t been the best place to meet boys, at least not boys who liked other boys. Adam doesn’t have a problem with who he is, but it’d hurt like hell to sit back and watch everyone else going through their first dates, first kisses and first loves when he’d had no one. 

He’d decided before he started classes that this would be different. No more of the ambiguous answers, no more hiding himself behind the veil of what’s acceptable and _normal_ for a teenage boy. He’d decided a fresh start was what he needed, so for the first time in his life, he’s living as an openly gay man. 

It’s freeing in ways he’d hoped it would be, but it isn’t the magical fix he’d secretly wished for. He’s managed to meet other boys who are gay, but none of them seem to be looking for the same things he is. He supposes he’s on the verge of being a hopeless romantic, but he doesn’t think it’s wrong to expect sex to be accompanied by some feelings other than physical gratification.

~*~

Adam notices _him_ the first day of class. He doesn’t notice anything but Josh, truth be told. He takes one look and is lost in bright green eyes and a megawatt smile. He spends the rest of the class wandering through thoughts and fantasies, doodling instead of taking notes, staring at one Mister Joshua Abrams.

He imagines dinners and kisses and long nights spent making out on a comfortable couch. He pictures roses and restaurants and reassuring words spoken at just the right time, in just the right way. Most of all, he feels hands touching him, finding him, in ways and places he’d never been touched before, and it almost takes his breath away. 

When everyone starts picking up and packing up, Adam realizes that he’s spent his first college class totally lost in a fog of fantasy. His head still isn’t completely clear when he starts picking up his own things, stuffing everything into his backpack. 

“Interesting composition,” Adam hears from just over his shoulder. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen hearts and dicks used as a border before.” There’s a hint of a smile in the voice, but Adam can’t force himself to turn around to see who’s standing there. Instead, he sees that the one thing he still hasn’t managed to put away is the notebook with the silly doodling. “But I think you got my mouth wrong.” 

Adam wants nothing more than to fall through some crack in reality, never to be seen again. Things like this always happen to him. He thought he could reinvent himself since he’d be around people who’d never seen him before, but he’s made a fool of himself already. He’s slipped right back into fantasizing about things he can’t have.

Except, maybe this time he can have it, he thinks as he hears the voice behind him continue. “I’m Josh, by the way. Josh Abrams.” Adam knows there’s a hand extended with those words of introduction, and he has no choice but to swallow his embarrassment and turn and offer his own hand in greeting.

When he comes face to face with that face, Adam’s throat goes dry and the language center in his brain shuts down. He knows he must look ridiculous with his mouth hanging open but no sound coming out. Some small part of his mind is trying to tell him that it would be a good time to either say something or shake the hand that’s still being offered to him, or maybe do both at the same time if he can manage it.

“Hi. I’m Adam, and I think I want to die now. Or at least crawl under this desk and hide.” He does manage to shake hands with Josh, though, and the smile on Josh’s face goes a long way towards making him feel more at ease.

“Wouldn’t want you to die,” Josh says, holding his hand a little longer and a little tighter than necessary. “I just met you, and I think I’d like to get to know you better. No one’s ever drawn me before. I guess that means you get to be my first.” 

Adam can feel his face turning red, both from the suggestive smirk Josh is wearing and from the unaccustomed attention from someone he finds idealistically attractive. Maybe getting caught acting like a twelve-year-old going through their first crush isn’t so bad after all. He thinks Josh might be flirting with him. He certainly doesn’t seem to be put off by Adam’s drawing, anyway.

“We could always go someplace for coffee and get to know each other better,” Adam ventures, feeling a little more confident. This college thing is turning out better than he’d hoped.

“I would if I could,” Josh answers, and Adam feels his newfound self-assurance deflating because there’s the sound of rejection he’s used to. “I’m a little busy this whole week as a matter of fact.” Adam’s never been blown off this completely before. He really should have seen this coming. Why the hell would someone like Josh be interested in having anything to do with him? He really wants to crawl under the desk and hide. “I’d like to get together, though. Maybe a real date - dinner and everything. Saturday’s good for me, if you don’t have plans, that is.”

It feels like Adam’s whole life changes then. He isn’t in the forever scorned and dateless group his mind had put him in anymore. A hot boy - a really fucking hot boy - asked him out. He’s going out for dinner...and everything. 

“Sure. I can do dinner Saturday. Where and when?” Adam can’t help the smile that takes over his face. He just hopes he doesn’t come off as overeager. _Be cool, Lambert_ , he keeps telling himself, but he really doesn’t think he’s pulling it off.

After exchanging numbers and making plans, Josh leaves for whatever he has to do. Adam walks slowly to his next class, hoping they don’t go over anything important, because his mind is too full of romance to process anything else. He’s excited as all hell over finally having a date with a boy, but he can’t help wondering if the _and everything_ really means everything.

~*~

They make arrangements to meet at a little Italian place Josh knows about. It’s one of the few places around that uses actual tablecloths and is still in their student budget. He smooths nonexistent wrinkles out of his shirt - the shirt that took him all afternoon to pick out. He’d gone through every item of clothing he had at least five times before he was satisfied that he’d put together the perfect combination. Everything - from his underwear to his rings, and all items between - have been carefully considered for the effect they might have on someone Adam hopes will be special in his life.

He knows he shouldn’t put so much emphasis and pressure on this. It’s just a date, after all, and a first date, no less. But he’s been waiting so long for it, and he just knows that Josh is the kind of guy he’s always wanted - perfectly proportioned with strong muscles in all the right places... not to mention those eyes and that smile. Adam can’t wait to find out how Josh’s lips feel when they kiss and how their bodies fit together in an embrace.

Shaking his head in an effort to clear out the overly romanticized ideals that keep trying to take over his mind, Adam makes his way into the restaurant and almost swoons. It’s like a setting straight from one of his fantasies. Dark wood seems to frame everything, and the tables all have red checkered cloths covering them. It’s not crowded; there’s plenty of room between tables to make each one an island of privacy. The lights are low, and the glow of the candles on the tables lends to the feeling of intimacy and isolation. 

He sees Josh sitting at a table in a secluded corner, and he thinks this has to be the most perfect first date ever. He hopes he manages a little bit of a sexy swagger as he walks over to Josh’s table. He doesn’t feel like he’s lumbering anyway, but this whole idea of him being an object of desire is new to him, and he’s not quite sure of anything. But seeing Josh smile at him the whole time makes him feel like he might be doing something right.

As he takes his seat Josh says, “I hope you don’t mind, but I ordered for us already.”

Adam thinks about it. This is another first for him, and he thinks he likes it. No one besides his parents has ever ordered for him. It makes him feel cared for in some way. “What are we going to be eating?” he asks, not that it really makes a difference.

“Bruschetta and toasted ravioli to start with,” Josh answers with that air of confidence that Adam’s finding more and more attractive. “Then Chicken Saltimbocca with a house salad on the side. You’ll love it.”

There’s no question or hesitation in Josh’s voice. There’s no apology there, either. Adam thinks he could get used to someone taking care of him this way. It takes some of the pressure off, and Adam feels like he can finally relax and be himself.

They make small talk all through dinner. Josh was right, Adam thinks. He loves the food. He loves the conversation, too. They talk some about school and how Adam’s finding his way around. He finds out that Josh isn’t a freshman like him; he’s just catching up on required classes he’d skipped before. Without knowing exactly how or when it happens, Adam realizes that Josh’s fingers have found his, and they’re now openly holding hands. In Adam’s mind this is such a big thing. This is the first time he’s ever had the chance to publicly show affection for another man, and, thanks to Josh, it all feels natural and right.

He even tells Josh how he wants to get out and live and learn life on his own, not listen to someone else telling him how it should be done. How he wants to perform and entertain. How important it is to him to be able to give everything he has to an audience who will appreciate it - who will appreciate him. How much he wants to experience the excitement of opening night, the confidence of a repeat performance with all the jitters and mistakes worked out, the heat of the lights and the sound of applause. That he needs to be onstage, not sitting at some desk pretending to listen to a dry lecture. And how much he really wants to know how it feels to have someone special watching him perform.

The whole dinner has been so easy, and Adam hears the small, quiet voice inside himself that keeps saying that Josh is someone he could fall for. He knows that it’s too quick for that; he really knows that, but it’s hard to fight the attraction he feels. This might be his first real date, but Josh is everything he’s always wanted, and if the timing of finding him first bothers anyone, Adam doesn’t want to hear about it.

Even though dinner is done, and they‘re waiting for the check, Adam realizes he isn’t ready to let the evening go. This night has the feeling of one of the magical times in his life: a night he’ll remember forever. When the server brings their bill, Josh writes in a generous tip and puts his card on the tray.

When they’re alone once more, Josh takes Adam’s hand again and pulls it close enough that he can kiss each knuckle. Adam can feel it all the way to the pit of his stomach and beyond. It emboldens him enough to give him the courage to say, “I really had a good time tonight. I wish it didn’t have to end.” 

He thinks the words might sound corny and cheesy under any other circumstance, but, watching everything he’s feeling reflected in Josh’s eyes, he feels absolutely comfortable saying them because they’re honest and true. He wants more with Josh, and there’s nothing better to base it on than honesty and truthfulness. 

“It doesn’t have to end, you know,” Josh says, never looking away from Adam’s eyes. “You can come back to my place. We can watch a movie or talk or something.” 

Adam would pinch himself to make sure this isn’t some schoolboy fantasy, but he would have to let go of Josh’s hand, and he’s not ready to do that yet. Instead, the server brings everything back to reality when he appears at their table with an embarrassed look. Looking at Josh, he says, “I’m very sorry, sir. Your card’s been declined. I sure there’s a mix up somewhere, but the computer won’t let me put it through. Do you have another we could try?”

“Fuck!” Josh says, then looks embarrassed for having said it. “My dad promised to deposit the money on it yesterday. I should have checked before I used it, but he’s never been late before.” 

He pulls out his wallet and goes through the cash, counting. Adam can see that there’s not nearly enough there to cover the bill, and he swears he can feel Josh’s embarrassment and humiliation.

“That’s okay. I’ll get it this time,” Adam says, taking his own card out and handing it to a relieved server. “You can catch it next time, okay?”

“Thanks. For a minute there, I thought I'd have to leave you as collateral while I went home to get the money.” Adam thinks Josh’s smile looks almost shy as he continues. “You’re worth too much to do that, I think.”

Adam’s heart melts then. He can’t think, let alone form words, so he simply smiles back at Josh while they wait for their receipt.

They decide to walk home instead of waiting for a bus, and the night matches Adam’s mood: calm, peaceful and romantic. The stars are out in force, and Adam can’t get past thoughts of magic in the air, especially when Josh puts his arm around Adam’s shoulder and pulls him in close. Adam’s always seen himself in more of a caretaker role, but he has to admit that he likes how safe and protected he feels with Josh taking charge.

He knows he should rein himself in; he needs to slow down his thinking and expectations, but the more he tries to convince himself, the more he sees how perfect Josh is. It’s like his drawing all over again, except instead of hearts and dicks, he’s putting little white picket fences around everything.

They come to a corner and have to wait for the light to change before they can cross. Adam’s not surprised when he feels Josh’s arm shifting on his shoulder. He accepts the idea that being in a well lit area, more open to view, would cause Josh to pull away. Except Josh isn’t pulling away. He’s pulling Adam in closer. He’s got both his arms around Adam, and he’s leaning in.

Adam has a momentary flash of clarity, and he knows that this is it. This is where his first real kiss is going to happen. This is where the _and everything_ starts, and he’s in love with the idea that even the setting is cooperating by spotlighting such a milestone in his life.

When Josh’s lips find Adam’s, they’re anything but tentative. So far, Adam hasn’t found anything about Josh that is tentative. Josh has no problem making it clear that he wants more than a quick kiss. He’s gentle, and he’s patient. He’s almost worshipful as he gives every bit of Adam’s lips his undivided attention. 

By the time Adam feels Josh’s tongue pressing against the seam of his lips, he’s so lost in the sensations of the moment that he doesn’t even question it. He opens hungrily and let’s Josh’s tongue in. This is new to him, but it’s also real and natural. He’s spent so much time dreaming and wondering and thinking about this that it seems like it’s happened thousands of times, because Josh is kissing him as perfectly as he’d ever imagined a kiss could be.

When the kiss breaks, Adam’s breathless. He feels dazed and fuzzy and warm and wanting. This whole first date is turning out to be everything he wants in his life. Josh looks at him with a little bit of the same stunned surprise in his eyes that Adam thinks he must be wearing right now. 

“Thought you looked like you needed that,” he says before dropping his hold on Adam. He does take Adam’s hand though, and starts pulling him across the street. “Come on or we’re gonna miss the light. If we stay here, I’m just gonna kiss you again, and I can’t promise I’ll stop this time.”

Adam’s not sure how they get back to Josh’s place. Everything’s lost in the feel good fog that’s taken up residence in his mind. He feels like skipping; he feels like singing. Shit, does he feel like singing. All his life, strong emotions have always made him want to sing, and this is one fucking emotional night.

As soon as the door to Josh’s place is shut behind them, they’re in each other’s arms again. Adam can’t wait to share another kiss like the one they’d shared out on the street. He has visions of a long, sexy night of kisses and making out and getting to know each other. He can picture whispered conversations between the two of them and secrets told and kept safe.

What he doesn’t expect is the way Josh backs him up against the door and almost demands another kiss. This one isn’t as romantic, but maybe that’s just the way things are. Adam really doesn’t have any experience to compare it to. He doesn’t want to put Josh off with flowery, romantic ideas though, so he tries his best to give everything to this kiss. 

Besides, it’s not a bad kiss. It’s so far away from a bad kiss that Adam’s not quite sure what’s bothering him about it. It’s hot and sexy and hard and full of all the things Adam’s wanted for so long that he should be overjoyed. 

He should be celebrating.

But he’s not.

There’s something about the way that Josh is taking without asking or caring that bothers Adam a little. It sets off a hidden warning bell somewhere in his mind, but Adam’s not about to let his inexperience push Josh away. He’s sure Josh’s just lost in the heat and the passion of the moment, and he thinks he should be happy that he’s the one who put Josh there, but it’s taking away the romantic edge, and that does bother him on some level. He feels selfish, but he really wants romance with his _and everything_. 

He thinks he might be a little naive in his expectations and desires. Josh’s done this before, so he must know how it‘s supposed to be, Adam thinks. Besides, Josh’s been so perfect that Adam’s willing to trust him to make this good.

And it does feel good when Josh pushes his hands up under Adam’s shirt. There’s no way Adam would ever try and deny how good that feels. Having someone touch him this way is new and wonderful and powerful in ways that Adam hadn’t even imagined before. He thinks he can learn to live without the romance if the heat inside him keeps building like this.

When Josh breaks the kiss, Adam’s breathless in a way that’s not the same as the street corner kiss left him. This is more primal, more immediate. This isn’t about seeing a happily ever after in the future. No, this is just about satisfying needs. 

When Josh takes his hand and pulls him along the hall that Adam assumes leads to his bedroom, the tenderness is gone from the touch. Now there’s a command in its place. Adam tells himself that this is just another side of Josh’s self-confidence, but he worries that it might be something more. 

Once they’re inside the bedroom, Josh doesn’t even bother closing the door. He doesn’t waste any time before he has Adam backed up against the bed, another hard, demanding kiss being shared between them. This is all moving faster than Adam expected it to, but he’s not convinced that he even has the right to have expectations. 

Adam watches as Josh pulls his shirt up and over his head and starts unbuckling his pants. It all seems so perfunctory, and Adam can’t help the sigh that comes out of his mouth. Josh notices, even if just barely, and asks, “Something wrong?”

“No,” Adam answers, looking at his feet because he doesn’t want to see the way he can imagine Josh is looking at him. He knows he’s a big boy, and big boys aren’t supposed to expect hearts and flowers. He should be glad someone finds him attractive enough to want to fuck him, but he always thought his first time would be more than just a fuck.

“Well, yeah, maybe something is wrong,” Adam continues, hoping he’s not making a fool of himself. “At least a little bit. I kind of wanted to do that. I always imagined doing that, anyway. I wanted to undress you slowly, maybe kiss you while I did it.”

“You’re cute,” Josh says while taking his pants off, “but we don’t have a lot of time to waste here. My roommates are gonna be back in a little while, and I don’t want to be interrupted.”

“If they’re coming back soon, why don’t we just shut the door?” Adam asks, because, really? Why not?

“Because I don’t want to be cited for breaking house rules. Guests in your room, the door stays open. Besides, this won’t take long. You can take your clothes off while I get things ready, okay?”

The words _this won’t take long_ keep replaying in a loop in Adam’s mind as he takes his own shirt off. He might take a little longer getting out of his pants than Josh did, but he keeps hoping that Josh will turn around and look at him or something. He wants to be noticed. He wants to feel more like a participant than a prop, and that’s exactly what’s bothering him, he realizes. It’s like Josh could be here with anyone with a warm, willing body, and it would all be the same to him. Suddenly Adam’s not too sure he wants the _and everything_ anymore.

But then Josh pushes him back on the bed and crawls up over him, and Adam feels things waking up inside. He’s gotten himself off before; he knows how it feels, but feeling hands that aren’t his own touching him is so much more intense. He really wants the emotion, but he has to admit that this is doing things to him and for him. 

Josh pushes a bottle of lube into his hand and says, “Get yourself ready, while I get the condom on.” This isn’t anywhere close to what Adam imagined his first time would be, but he doesn’t think he could walk away now. He’s way too involved physically, and he thinks his body would just shut down if he tried to stop. 

Adam does his best to hurry through prepping himself. He closes his eyes and imagines Josh’s fingers doing this for him, and that helps some. He wants so much to reach up and kiss Josh, but he hears, “Are you ready? We don’t have long, you know,” and it kills the idea before it has a chance to really develop. 

He keeps his eyes closed while he nods slightly. If he can’t have what he wants in person, he might as well imagine the perfect first time. But everything changes when he feels the head of Josh’s dick pressing against his ass. He almost does jump out of bed then, because, holy shit, this feels so not right. 

Instead, he stays where he is while Josh starts pushing into him. Adam never really told Josh that it’s his first time, but he thinks Josh must know, because he does take it slow, at least at first. Once he’s all the way in, he even gives Adam a second or two to get used to the feeling, and Adam’s really fucking glad, because this is just way too much all at once. He should have taken more time getting ready, he thinks, but he really had no idea what to expect. Josh should have helped prep him. He shouldn’t have rushed into or through this. He should have waited until he was sure the person he was with wanted the same things out of it that he does. He wants to cry, both from the physical discomfort and the emotional detachment he’s feeling. He wants to, but he won’t. He can’t. There’s no way he’s going to let Josh see him as some emotional wreck, just because he wasn’t realistic in his expectations.

No matter how hard he tells himself that he’s not going to fucking break down, he can feel the first prickling of tears just as Josh starts moving in and out of him. This isn’t the beautiful setting he always dreamed of. This is a small, not quite dirty room in a college frat house. Josh isn’t the person he imagined either, but Adam blames himself for maybe making more of Josh than there really is. He’s been looking at the whole date through a veil of idealistic stupidity, but the Josh he went to dinner with seems like he’s thousands of miles removed from the Josh he’s in bed with now. 

Just when he thinks he’s about to start with real waterworks, Josh hits that spot inside that Adam’s never been able to find on his own. He’s heard of it, he’s read all about it, but he seriously doubted its existence before. Now he knows it’s real, because every nerve in his body flashes at the same instant, and he’s on fire. All the regret over what he doesn’t have is replaced in an instant with so much physical stimulation that he’s just on the edge of it being too much for him. 

He feels his dick bumping against his belly with each of Josh’s thrusts, and he craves friction. He’s really starting to get into this, and that worries him a little. The fact that it worries him, worries him even more though. It’s like a nightmare in his mind with never ending, conflicting layers, but his dick is ready to ignore them all and just enjoy.

Because even without the romance and emotional contact he’s craving, his body is reacting to this. The rhythm of the action is enough to pull him in, but it’s not quite enough to pull him all the way through. He needs more. He wants more. He sees Josh over him, head thrown back, and the tendons in his neck standing out. Josh looks like he’s so lost in the moment that he isn’t thinking about anything but finding his own pleasure, and some part of Adam wants to feel that way too. He wishes he could just lose himself in physical gratification, in the primal search for release the way Josh seems to be doing.

He needs a little bit more stimulation, though, and starts reaching for his dick. If Josh isn’t going to take care of getting him off, he’ll just have to take things into his own hands. Maybe Josh notices Adam moving, or maybe he just remembers that there’s someone else there with him, but he says, “Yeah. Take care of yourself, ‘cause I’m almost there.”

It’s all so impersonal and so unlike what Adam had hoped his first time would be. He thinks his dick should shrivel up over the level of disconnect that’s going on, but surprisingly, it seems to have a mind of its own. It’s still hard, still leaking, and still straining to come. He only has to stroke a few times before he lets go. He ends up catching most of it with his hand, but he notices some of his spunk hits Josh on the chest. He wonders about the etiquette rules of post sexual clean up, then wonders about himself for wondering about it at a time like this.

Just when he thinks he’s talked himself out of strange thought trains, he feels Josh fuck into him with extra force, bringing back the burn and the pain that he thought were over. He feels Josh’s muscles lock as his whole body tenses with his orgasm, and Adam wants to push him off and push him out, because it feels so good but so wrong. 

It’s too much now because it wasn’t enough before. If there had been any sort of emotional contact, any tenderness between them, Adam thinks this wouldn’t be so hard to take. 

But now all he wants to do is leave. He wants to leave, to be by himself and sort this out on his own. He needs to go home, back to his own room where he can think, because this shit here just isn’t helping him to reconcile what he always thought his first time would be like and what actually took place here tonight. 

He sits up, pulling the sheet with him, because being naked suddenly feels way too overexposed to him. This earns a grunt from Josh as he pulls the sheets back. “My bed, my sheets, man. If you want your clothes, thery’re over in the corner by the door, I think. Just make sure to shut the door all the way when you leave.”

Adam gathers his things and fights the indignity of having to put them on in front of Josh., but the only other choice is taking the chance of running into someone else in the hall on his way to the bathroom. This whole night seems so far from what he wanted it to be that this latest obstacle seems to fit right in. 

As Adam dresses, he thinks back to the way the evening started. He remembers all the hopes, all the anticipation. He tries to pinpoint when it all went to shit, and he can’t find any one moment. The dinner was perfect and romantic . The walk back to Josh’s was something out of a fairytale. But when it came to sex, there was absolutely no intimacy, and Adam can’t help but feel like it’s his fault somehow. 

He’s the one with no experience. He’s the one who’d never done this before. He’s the one with no idea about how to get from what is to what he wants it to be. If he knew more about this, if he knew how to open up and tell josh what he wants, maybe they could still have something. But first he has to find out what it is he wants, and he thinks maybe if he has another chance with Josh, he could figure out how to be a better lover.

When he has his clothes on, he goes over and sits on the bed next to the not quite sleeping Josh. He hopes he’s projecting when he sees what looks like annoyance in Josh’s eyes.

“I think I’m gonna go now,” he tells Josh. “Unless you want me to stay.” He can’t quite keep the hopefulness out of his voice, because he thinks this would be easier to fix this right now than it will be if they let it ride this way.

“I’ve got kind of a big day tomorrow,” Josh answers, turning his back to Adam and burying his face in the pillow. “You can let yourself out, right?”

“Yeah, sure. Just call me tomorrow, okay?” Adam asks as he tries to give Josh a kiss goodbye. It’s hard, though, because Josh doesn’t even try to meet him halfway, and he ends up kissing his cheek. It’s unsatisfying, but it seems fitting in a strange, ass backwards kind of way.

Adam thinks about it all the way back to his room. There’s no way he can deny that they missed a connection somewhere. He knows Josh has a hell of a lot more experience than he does, and he can’t get past feeling like he’s to blame for this. 

He wants to call Josh as soon as he gets home, but he remembers how tired Josh was, so maybe that’s not such a good idea. No, he decides to wait and call in the morning. He can apologize and play coy. If he acts like he wants nothing more than to give Josh pleasure, he might decide it’s worth his time to teach him things.

He goes to sleep with an empty feeling. It’s not quite what he expected, but he thinks he can work with it. There’s always a way to make things work.

~*~

When he wakes up, he’s surprised to see how much light is coming through the crack in the curtains. It’s later than he’d planned on getting up, but still not quite noon. He hopes he can catch Josh before he’s busy with whatever he has planned for the day.

But when he calls, it goes straight to Josh’s voice mail. He doesn’t leave a message, because he’s really not sure what he wants to say. He hopes when he does hear Josh’s voice, it’ll help him figure that out. 

He distracts himself by going over the notes he took in the math class they’re making him take. It’s pretty basic stuff - mostly review of the things he should have learned in high school but had failed to stick in his brain - but he can’t stay focused on it for more than a minute or two before he’s thinking about Josh again.

After a half an hour, he can’t wait anymore. He calls again, and again he hears Josh’s recorded voice telling him to leave a message if it’s important enough. This time Adam does leave a message. It’s just a short, hi, how ya doing, kind of message, but at least he made contact. He took the first step. Maybe Josh will call back and tell him he wants to see him tonight. He’d really like to talk to Josh face to face. He knows he’s probably making more of this than he should. Losing his virginity isn’t like the most memorable day of his life or anything, but it _is_ important to him, damn it! He’s not especially sentimental or sappy, but this is something that he should be able to remember and feel good about. So far he only feels empty and a little confused. And a little let down too, if he’s being honest. 

So he waits another hour before he calls Josh again. After the voice tells him to, he says, “It’s Adam. I just wondered if we could get together later. I really want to talk. Call me, please?”

When he hangs up, he replays his words in his mind, and wonders if he sounded too needy. He thinks he might have, but it’s too late to take it back. He tries calling four more times before he gives up for the night, but he doesn’t leave any more messages. He thinks it’s best that way.

When his alarm goes off Monday morning, he’s not ready to get out of bed. He knows he’s gonna see Josh in class. He’s come to the conclusion that Josh is probably avoiding him. He should have been able to find time to answer one of his calls yesterday, or call him back, or some fucking thing. 

If he sees Josh in class, at least they’ll be able to talk face to face. Maybe then he can find out what went wrong. But when he gets to class, Josh isn’t there. He waits and watches the door, expecting him to walk in any second - right up until the professor starts his lecture. Then he’s too busy trying to keep his mind focused on what’s going on in class to worry about it. 

When the class ends and he’s packing up his books, he overhears Josh’s name being mentioned in a conversation a few of the other students are having. 

“So, is Josh busy posting scores, or what?” a very pretty blonde asks. “I really expected him to be here. Just to let us know how well he did.”

“I think he might be recovering from the weekend,” another boy answers. Adam thinks he’s in the same fraternity as Josh. He knows he’s seen him outside of class before. “He had enough people in and out of his room to set a new all time record. At least two on Saturday, and he might have even done three yesterday.”

“He really wants that crown, doesn’t he?” the blonde asks as they walk out the door. Adam really wants to follow them. He wants to follow and ask them what the hell they’re talking about, but he thinks he might not like the answer he gets. 

Instead, he decides to skip his next class and walk back to his room. Alone. He feels his stomach sinking lower and lower with each step he takes, and by the time he gets home, he knows he’s going to be sick. He barely makes it to the bathroom before everything he’s ever eaten comes up, or that’s how it feels to him. Something isn’t right with this whole thing, but he won’t let himself assume the worst until he talks to Josh. 

It’s late when Adam realizes he’s hungry. He’s missed every meal except breakfast today, and he left that in the toilet after his first class. So he does his best to put himself together. He’s a big boy, living on his own now, and there’s no one to go out and get him something to eat. He’s going to do this. No matter what he thinks might have happened, he’s going to go out in public and hold his head up high while he does it. 

There’s a little bar not far from the dorm that serves decent food. He’d learned about it right away. When something’s good and within the typical student budget, it never takes long for word to spread. Besides, he tells himself, the night air might do him some good.

Picking up his phone and the book for the class he’d missed, he walks out into the chill. Sometime during the day, while he’d kept himself holed up in his room, a fresh breath of cool air had come in. As soon as it hits him, Adam feels a shiver run through him. He isn’t sure if it’s because the oppressive heat of late summer has finally broken, or it it’s because the cold seems to match what he’s feeling inside.

When he gets to the bar, he orders his food and picks a dark corner booth to wait for it. There’s barely enough light for him to read the textbook, but he does his best. He’s just about got himself back under control, telling himself that he overheard something he didn’t understand, and he’s making a big deal out of nothing. He’s sure Josh must have been busy over the weekend and hadn’t had a chance to return his calls.

He’s finally making progress at getting into the subject of the chapter, even making notes in the margins, when his concentration is broken by a particularly boisterous group coming through the door. He thinks it’s frat boys, judging by the pieces of conversation he hears. He can’t help glancing up when he hears a familiar voice, though.

He watches the congratulatory back slapping and even hears someone saying something about bowing down to the once and future king, and it’s Josh they’re fawning over. Adam feels his heart and his pride shrivel up a little, but he’s determined to keep himself in check this time, at least until he knows for sure what’s going on.

He picks up his things, ignoring the food he hasn’t even touched, and makes his way over to Josh and his entourage. “Can we talk a minute?” he asks. “In private.” He has to concentrate to keep his voice even, because no one ever told him how to handle something like this. Hell, he never thought he’d be in a situation like this. His stomach is doing a slow roll, and as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, this feels too much like betrayal.

Josh looks at him, and those incredible green eyes are still there, along with the smile that he’d found so captivating before, but this time he notices a little bit of hardness there too. The smile looks more predatory; the sparkle in Josh’s eyes seems more demanding than jovial. There’s a look of entitlement between Josh’s brows that Adam doesn’t remember seeing before.

Waving his hand in the general direction of his friends, Josh says, “We’re kinda in the middle of a celebration here, Adam.”

He can tell Josh has already started celebrating, and so have all all the others in his group. But being the only sober one doesn’t give Adam a sense of control or superiority when he hears a voice from one of them asking, “Adam? Wasn’t he number two on Saturday? The one who only got a six out of ten?”

He can’t help the explosion of feelings that take over his whole being then - the anger that covers everything in a veil of red and hurt, the humiliation that forces his shoulders in, trying to make himself smaller, invisible, and the sadness at being forced to give up the little piece of himself that still thought the world and the people in it were basically good.

“What the fuck, Josh?” he lashes out, the anger and disbelief apparent in his tone. “You told them that?” 

“Dude, he didn’t have to,” one of the entourage answers, bringing out his phone and pulling up the screen. “Here, see? It’s all there man.”

He doesn’t want to look at it, keeps telling himself that there’s no way in hell that he should look at it, but he can’t keep himself from doing just that. He watches as the owner of the phone scrolls through a list of names. He sees _Josh A._ and when a finger - he doesn’t know whose finger it is, nor does he care - touches it, the list expands, showing him a calendar of the last week. Next to each day is a box that holds names. He sees _Doug A._ and _Todd J._ and _Mark S._ , and under Saturday, right under _Bill F._ is _Adam L._ , and he thinks he’s seen enough. He knows he doesn’t want this to go any further, but that same finger comes back to the screen and touches his name. 

He keeps telling himself that he doesn’t want to look, that he doesn’t need to see what’s there, but he can’t help himself. It’s like a freeway accident, and he’s locked in place until the last morbid detail is revealed. He sees it; he reads it. He thinks everything on it is burned into his memory. When he can finally make himself close his eyes against it, he can still picture it exactly in his mind.

_Adam L - Not bad to look at, but puppydog eager. Even paid for his own meal (And mine too) Clingy as a sloth after. Not a very responsive fuck, but a nice, tight hole. Overall, not worth the effort. Score: 6/10_

 

Adam doesn’t think, doesn’t plan, doesn’t even breathe before he grabs the phone from a very startled fratboy with one hand and Josh’s arm with the other. He pulls Josh roughly back to the corner table he’d been sitting at just a few minutes ago. “What the fuck, Josh?” The words carry a force of emotion he’s never felt before. He feels them fighting to get out through the red hot veil of anger that’s quickly taking over his mind, and he thinks he finally understands just what wrath means. “What the hell gives you the right to judge me? And why the fuck do you have a list on your phone?”

“Not my phone, man, so calm the fuck down.” Josh pulls his arm away from Adam, obviously upset over being handled like this. He can’t believe that Josh has the balls to actually sound offended. 

“Is that supposed to make feel better? Knowing you let someone else carry around a list of your conquests on their phone?” He tries like hell to keep his voice down, because people are starting to stare now, and he really would like to handle this with a little bit of privacy. Knowing that Josh’s friends have seen his first ever sexual experience critiqued and scored is bad enough; having the whole bar hear about it would be too much to have to face.

And now, Josh is putting his arm around his shoulder and pulling him in tighter for the most insincere hug he’s ever been a part of, and he would love to shove him as hard and as far as he can, but the words Josh is saying stop him dead cold. “Adam, baby, look at the phone. See the address bar at the top? That a website, dude, not an internal list.”

He feels the room tilt and his vision and heart darken. Everything seems to be going away - going all quiet and soft around the edges, and he bites the inside of his mouth until he tastes the tang of blood just to bring himself back. He’s not going to pass out here and cause a scene, damn it! 

Josh has taken advantage of his momentary break from his surroundings, though, and pulled him in, so that when he hears, “Look at me, Adam,” and opens his eyes, he’s looking right into those cold green eyes that he thought were beautiful such a short time ago. “Oh, baby,” Josh says, almost on the edge of slurring his words, “did you really think I wouldn’t want to share the magic of your first time with everyone? Besides, you helped me win the crown. Don’t you want to help me celebrate?”

Apparently Josh thinks this is a good thing, because he tries to kiss Adam, and that’s what brings him back to action. He does push Josh away. He pushes hard enough that Josh stumbles, and the absolute glee that he feels when he sees Josh land on his ass while grabbing for his ankle that had tangled with the leg of a chair when he fell shocks him. 

He caused someone pain - a great deal of pain from the way Josh is carrying on - and it’s making him happy. Seeing Josh on the floor, unable to get up, is bringing him joy. He’s even smiling, and the smile turns into a giggle which turns into an all out laugh.

He hears Josh threatening - threatening to make sure everyone on campus sees the website, threatening to press charges against him, threatening to use relatives in high places to make sure Adam never sees his dreams become reality.

Some of the threats sink in. Adam knows he’d be in enough trouble to be expelled if Josh decided to press charges. But he knows that Josh and everyone else involved in that little contest would be expelled too, if he told the right people. 

But right now, Josh is too far beyond any line of reasoning to be able to see the consequences of his threats. Even his own friends are trying to tell him that it would be a big fucking mistake to bring the attention of anyone with real authority to their contest. Josh just keeps going on, though, about how he’s gonna see Adam behind bars, and he’s going to see that he never works on stage, and how Adam’s a fucking animal who needs to be locked up for the good of society.

Adam hopes they get Josh calmed down before they take him to get his ankle checked, but he’s not taking any chances. He grabs his own things, leaving the phone that belongs to someone whose name he’ll never know on the table. He can still hear the commotion and voices going on behind him as he makes his way to the exit. The last thing he hears is one of the frat boys saying, “Just tell ‘em it was a fucking accident,” and the drunken laugh that follows it.

He’s not sure what he’s going to do when he leaves the bar. All he knows is that he has to get away - away from Josh, away from campus, away from here. Hell, he thinks, maybe he even wants to get away from himself. He’s spent almost his whole life being the kind of guy that Josh had found so easy to take advantage of, but the last ten minutes he’d turned into something completely different. He’d been someone who could hurt and not feel guilty about it. Both of those Adams scare him. 

He wants to go somewhere completely different, somewhere he can be someone completely different, so he goes back to his room and throws just enough to get him through a day or two into his backpack, and at the last second he picks up his passport. He’s serious about wanting to get as far away as possible, and he wants to be prepared. He’ll call his mom later and see if she can come pack the rest of his shit. He can’t face doing it now, and he can’t face calling his mom and hearing the disappointment he knows will be in her voice, or even worse, the pity that might be there.

He knows he’s gotta do this quick, before he changes his mind. If he chickens out, he’ll end up going back home, and that’s not what he needs to do. He knows he has to find a way to find the Adam that’s somewhere between the two he’s known; the Adam that doesn’t have a target on his back, but the Adam that’s not cruel either.

While he’s waiting at the corner for the bus that runs the airport route, he sees people walking by. He recognizes some of them, some he doesn’t. But he can feel them all looking at him, and he can’t help thinking that they’re all judging him like Josh did. He _knows_ he’s worth more than six out of ten stars; he _knows_ he’s worth the effort, but he can’t know for certain that anyone else will ever take the time to know those things about him.

He gets off the bus at the international terminal because if he’s going to make a break, he’s gonna make it the biggest fucking break he can. He has his passport and his debit card that has enough money on it for a semester’s worth of living expenses. If he’s careful, he should be able to go somewhere far away and still have enough to support himself until he can find a way to make money. He’s trusting the good of the universe to help him find a way to find himself.

He sees a woman at one of the ticket counters that reminds him of his mom somehow; he thinks it’s the warm way she smiles at him, and that makes it so much easier to actually do this thing. Things may finally be going right for him; he might finally be going in the right direction. 

With a little more confidence in his decision than he’d felt a few minutes ago, he walks up to the counter before he realizes he has absolutely no idea where he wants to go. He can’t tell this lady that he just needs to go somewhere that’s _away_. He knows he already looks suspicious - taking an international flight with no luggage to check isn’t what people normally do - but her smile is so genuine and encouraging that he hears the words coming out of his mouth before he knows he’s saying them. “I need a ticket to someplace amazing. I’m tired of waiting for life to happen. I want to see the world.”

After some expected teasing about impetuous young men, and more than a few keystrokes sent out to the vague electronic universe, she finds a flight to London that’s not fully booked. There are a few single seats scattered throughout the plane, and she tells him that if he doesn’t mind spending ten and a half hours sitting next to a stranger, it sounds perfect for him. And he suddenly knows that it _is_ perfect. It feels so right; it resonates with something deep inside of him. He won’t be at a disadvantage with language. He won’t stand out as much as he would in some places. Most of all, though, it’s the idea that it’s big enough and far enough away for him to be able to find himself or reinvent himself or just discover himself.

When he has his ticket in hand and he’s through security, he finds a quiet corner to huddle in while he finally makes the call to his mom. Sure, he gets the reaction he expected, but he gets that unconditional love she always has for him too. It breaks his heart a little to hear the trust in her voice; she’s always had so damn much faith in him, even when he has none in himself. There are tears and promises on both ends, and she agrees to pack up his things and take care of storing them for him. She also volunteers to take care of the paperwork at school, something he’d never even thought about. She even asks if he needs anything, and that makes the crying start for real. He’ll never be unworthy in her eyes, never be just a six on her scale, and he ends the conversation by thanking her for being the best mom ever and assuring her that he thinks he can make it on what he has.

He manages to pull himself together enough to not look too out of place before he has to board. He finds his seat and squeezes in between the two people who are already there. He pretty much gets their leftover space, but he’s happy to have it. It still feels special to him, because this space right here? This is where the new Adam’s going to start. 

He plugs his earbuds into his phone and pulls up his favorite playlist and settles in for a long flight. He closes his eyes against the distractions of the plane and concentrates on finding himself. He doesn’t even notice when he slips from wakefulness into his own dream world.

Tommy slams his bedroom door shut.

He’s been trying not to cry all the fucking way home, all through the maze of ‘burbia and the people because it’s a fucking Friday afternoon, but he’s alone now. He lays his guitar beside the bed, and the fucking sobbing starts up, and he doesn’t want to, but he can’t help it.

He’s done with it.

So fucking done with it.

He hadn’t slept with fucking Marissa - Lukas was so wrong with that, that he didn’t know where to begin, but I haven’t slept with her is probably a good place to start, but there was so much else that’s just kind of gone to fucking shit, and now… and now…. Oh, fuck!

It was supposed to be a normal practice session - get out of school, catch a ride with Lukas and Kurt and Dan to Lukas’ place, set up and practice for a few hours for their gig on Saturday at the Red Rose, and then maybe chill with some beer in the yard out back where the resident ‘rents couldn’t catch them.

And then fucking Marissa showed up, and it’d all gone to shit faster than Tommy knew how to deal.

She’d been… not drunk, exactly, but Tommy Joe knows the difference between sober and not, and she was definitely not sober. The can of beer in her hand hadn’t helped with the not sober look she was trying for though. She and Lukas had had a fight a few days ago - they’d all heard it from the garage while they waited in Lukas’s car, and she’d stormed off after swinging a half hearted punch at her boyfriend.

Tommy Joe hadn’t been involved - he’s just a guitarist, and he doesn’t give a fucking shit about anything but the music, but the longer the argument with Marissa in the yard went on, the worse the gut feeling in his stomach got.

He didn’t speak Spanish - he can barely speak English never mind another language - but the anger in Lukas’s face, and Marissa’s finger stabbing at the bad tattoo of a heart and her name on her boyfriend’s chest did not imply a peaceful disagreement.

And then his name came up, and Marissa looked as smug as all hell, and then it kind of… went to shit.

A lot.

A lot, a lot.

There was a fight, he knows that much - his knuckles are bloody, and he’s got a black eye brewing - he can feel the heat beneath his fingers, like a slow burn. His lip is split too, and his ribs hurt, but he’s too angry and frustrated to think about taking care of his war wounds right now.

He’s more pissed about being thrown out, being fucking thrown out of his own damn band. He kind of knew it was coming in some ways - the whole fight over the band name because apparently Caught in the Act, Caught in the Ass was not acceptable for a good band, whatever the fuck that was, not to mention the fact they’d been through four drummers in two years, and they still had no full time bassist at the moment because Byron had a part time job washing dishes and could only make one in three practices.

And okay, Tommy knew that the name wasn’t cool - he’d been a bit drunk, and they’d been smoking the shit that Byron got from a guy he knew, and he’d never fucking meant them to take it seriously. Never. But they had, and they voted on it, and it fucking got the vote.

So now, when Lukas is all throwing it back in his face, acting like he shoved it on them, forced them to take it and all that? Yeah, fuck no. Tommy Joe dug his fucking heels in and he pushed right back. He’s only like five foot high or some shit, but he’s damned and fucking determined.

So it kinda all went downhill from there.

Tommy feels like hitting the wall all over again when he sees the letter pinned to his notice board, because it’s from a record company, and that they’d like to offer him and his band the chance to record an EP with them during the summer of 2013, and yeah.

For one brief shining moment, he thought he was gonna make it.

And then he fucking didn’t. All thanks to fucking Marissa.

Tommy Joe doesn’t want to cry, but he does, and he can’t fucking stop, either.

His dream – his whole fucking dream, that he worked for and learned music for and told everybody he was about to get delivered into his hands – it’s just gone. Puff of smoke gone.

If the record label had come back to the band, said they weren’t taking it any further, if they had turned it around and said we don’t think we can work with you, then yeah, Tommy would have fucking hated it, but that’s the label’s choice. That’s the business, you know? Bands get picked up and dropped in this industry faster than you can turn around.

But to be thrown out of a band that he worked so hard on, because of a fucking lie – that’s cold. That ‘s fucking stone fucking cold.

Caught hadn’t been his first band – Tommy Joe has done the rounds of the bands, and he’s got five names under his belt by his grand old age of eighteen, but this one had been the first one that was supposed to be going somewhere. The first one where Tommy had finally thought he was fitting in, and it fucking blows up in his face.

God fuck people. This is why Tommy prefers his posters and his guitar more than anybody else.

~*~

It’s the middle of the night when Tommy Joe finally makes his choice.

It wasn’t easy.

Dinner was hard – Dad had been laughing about Tommy going to NYC, and his mom had made the best pizza ever, and Tommy could barely eat it because it just kept turning to ash in his mouth.

It’s a lie, and he doesn’t know how he can tell them that he won’t be going to the Big Apple, that he won’t be making it in the music business.

He’s going to have to tell his parents somehow, but he really doesn’t know how. Breaking his parents heart was not something he wants to do, but it’s kind of inevitable, really, isn’t it? They put so much effort and time and fucking money into sending him to New York, driving him to practices, making plans to take him to the airport... Part of him wonders whether he should just tell them the whole story - blurt it out over the dinner table - but that probably won’t go down well. Tommy Joe knows his family likes pizza too much to ruin it with fucking tears and truth.

His mom would take it - if he told her when they were on their own, at least. Maybe he could pull her aside, talk to her as she loaded the plates in the dishwasher, maybe when she was trying to get the laundry in the machine, even though it’s old and kinda busted and they need a new one but....

No, that won’t fucking work.

His dad would be the same - no way Tommy’s gonna tell him first. He won’t be pissed; Dad doesn’t get pissed. That’s Mom’s job - he’d just... tell Tommy he’s a good kid anyway, and that it’s okay, Dad still believes in him, and Tommy can’t take that. He can’t take that now. He’s not a good kid. He’s not going to make the grade to be in a band, a-fucking-parrently, no matter what his parents say.

Right now though, Tommy Joe counts his money – he went to the bank with Lisa on the way to the store for garlic bread and milk, said he needed to make a deposit because he had more cash to put in the bank account.

Instead, he pulled out five hundred, traded up his account for an overseas accessible one – he thinks. He wasn’t exactly thinking straight. He might have donated it all to the Vatican for all he knows, but he’s got cash. A lot of it. In a paper envelope.

Right now, he’s on his laptop – his laptop that was his birthday and Christmas presents combined, because fuck, he needed one for college even though he’s not looking likely to get there - and he’s hunting down places.

Places to run away to.

Anywhere. Absolutely anywhere. He’s got tabs open for Switzerland – way too fucking expensive – Thailand where he could get a billion things for half his cash – Australia, New Zealand, Japan, China, Kazakhstan – where the fuck is that?

But then he finds a forum – Google is Tommy Joe’s fucking God - and after doing some trawling – there’s just a single post. Brand new – posted only a few hours before, and it’s by someone called farawaylands and maaaan, that is so fucking tacky. But their icon is of a beach somewhere warm and they’ve posted 6,199 times, so Tommy Joe might trust their advice. A bit.

_Go 2 the airport. Go 2 the desk for an airline + ask to buy 1 ticket. For anywhere. Cheap + dirty but u never kno where u’ll end up. Planes usually fly out in under 30 minutes so u have 2 move fast. But hey. Where’s the fun in planning? Lol XDXDXDXDXDXDXDXD Pack clothes for hot/cold +be prepared to try sumthng new._

~*~

“How can I help you, sir?” The woman behind the desk doesn’t even look up from the paperwork in her hand, even though Tommy’s waited for thirty eight minutes in the line because he’s trying to give them his fucking money and they won’t let him. God fuck the Goddamn world right now, but he needs a break.

And she’s not giving it to him.

“I need a ticket.”

“Sir, if you’ve lost yours…” She says, and her voice just smacks of I can’t be saying this again. Her face doesn’t even twitch - it’s just robotic.

“I haven’t -“

“If you’ve lost it, you need to phone this number-“

“I’m not…”

“Sir, please listen to what I’m saying!” Her voice goes up by, like, point one three of an octave and not much more in volume. He’s so fucking done with this shit.

Tommy’s having a very bad day, and he’s not interested in being ignored, especially not by someone who isn’t actually supposed to be ignoring people. He hoists himself onto the countertop, his feet dangling at least six inches off the floor because apparently, the designer thinks that all people are eleven million feet tall or something, and grabs the paperwork - actually, a crossword, and he’s so not impressed about that - out of her hands.

“I need to buy a ticket to somewhere, and apparently, you’re my magic genie.” She chews her gum, but given that she’s actually paying five seconds of attention to him, Tommy’ll take it. “Can you help me?”

“Wha-“

“Ticket. Buy. Me from you. Okay?” He’s eighteen, and she’s got to be at least twenty eight, but he wants to be out of the country by four, and she’s his only option. So he’s going for the hard line way, heavy on the attitude, hold the politeness.

“Sure…” She smacks her gum again, but giving her credit, she’s actually on the computer now. “Where to?”

“Anywhere?”

“…Is that in the US?”

Tommy waits for her brain to catch up and tries to not faceplant on the counter.

She stares at him, and he waits. Screw the mile long line behind him. She’s going to work out for herse-

“OH!”

“Yeah.”

She’s turning the faintest hint of pink, and Tommy can’t help but be a tiny bit perversely satisfied. She clacks a little faster on the keys now too.

“I have two flights leaving for Dubai and Antigua…”

“How much?”

“Four hundred for Dubai, three fifty for Antigua…”

“Nope.” Tommy can’t afford those locations - he’s got barely two thousand bucks, and he needs it to survive on when he gets to whenever he’s going. He’s planning on being gone a long time.

“I got…. New York?”

“Nope.” He’s not going there. New York was a fucking lie, and it has fucking Lukas and Marissa as well - if he had even the slightest chance of outrunning their fucking memories, it means staying well away from them. “What else do you have?”

“A flight to Paris, France leaving in thirty minutes…” Paris might be nice. City of artists, musicians, naked women willing to pose for him… and all that…Not that he can draw, but who’s asking about technicalities? “Or London, England, leaving in twenty four minutes.”

“How much?”

“Both sixty eight bucks.” She looks at him, and Tommy sees her eyes are blue, like the ocean. Maybe he’ll get to see the sea this time, too.

“Pick one.” He doesn’t know why, but he leaves the choice up to her. Not that it can make much of a difference right now - he’s dying to get out of America, leave behind the dreams that fucking dickwad Lukas Azza and his stupid fucking girlfriend cost him. Just to get out, that’s all he fucking wants, that’s all he fucking needs. A place that isn’t here.

“Seriously?”

“I’m going somewhere far away. You get to pick where. Send me to Paris or London, but you choose.” Tommy shrugs. He’s going - he’s going somewhere far away, and that’s all he cares about. Anything else, he’ll worry about when he gets there.

“M’okay!” She grins at him, and although she doesn’t exactly look prettier, there’s something in her face that looks better than when he got to her desk five minutes ago.

She types some more, takes his details and his passport, asks about his hold luggage - which he doesn’t have, because he’s traveling as light as he can, tells him he’s got fifteen minutes to make it to the gate, or the plane will leave without him, and he slaps down seven crinkled ten dollar bills on the grey desk top.

“You have an exit seat thanks to a cancellation,” Tommy could cheer because he’s got fucking leg room now, “and I’ve put you down for the non vegetarian meal, sir.”

“Awesome.”

“Economy class, seat 14A., non veg meal, boarding now.” She bangs the enter key one last time, and the printer beside her computer starts to whirr.

Done deal. Tommy’s going somewhere, and he doesn’t know where, but it’s not here, and that’s all he cares about.

“Enjoy your flight, sir.,” She hands him a little envelope with the flap shut, and he takes it with a surprisingly steady hand.

“Thank you.” He means it.

“Gate nine. Run!” She laughs as Tommy spins around, heading for the main hall.

Gate nine is on the departure boards… he waits impatiently for it to scroll across the screen, suddenly anxious to know where she’s sent him... it could be... There it is!

Tommy Joe is going to London.

As soon as the plane lands, he buys a paper and starts looking for a future. Turns out, the whole leaving the country on the spur of the moment thing isn’t the grand adventure he’d thought it would be. He’s got his debit card, and he’s sure he can find an atm somewhere that’ll accept it. If not, he’ll have to find a bank that’ll open an account for him here. Except he’s not sure how that would even work. He has a passport. He’s a visitor. He doesn’t have the right to work here or set up any kind of permanency. He’s pretty much stuck in limbo with no idea how to find his way out.

He has just over two hundred dollars in his pocket, but he doesn’t even know what the exchange rate is, or what fees he’ll be charged for exchanging it. Up until a few days ago he would have naively trusted in the basic goodness in people and asked for help. But he’s had more than enough of being an easy mark, thanks to Josh. 

He realizes he’s pretty damn hungry as he wanders along streets that feel familiar and foreign at the same time, but he really doesn’t know what he wants to eat. He figures a grocery store would have variety, but he’s not sure where to find one. He sees a smile that’s almost familiar on a woman’s face, and that helps. It’s a mom’s smile. There’s no mistaking it. He decides to take a chance and approach her and ask for help.

It seems that not all his instincts about people are wrong, because not only does she give him directions to a nice store, but she tells him they have a post office station there that will exchange his money. She also tells him where the best internet cafes are, and even writes her name and phone number down in case he needs anything else. Without even realizing it, he opens up to her and tells her so much more than he intends. Not about Josh, but about needing to make a clean break somewhere new, and she steps right into the role of temporary, surrogate mother. He can’t help thinking his mom would love her. They’d be best friends, if they ever got a chance to meet.

When he gets to the store, he takes care of the money first. It’s a shock to find out how little he gets back - two hundred dollars is less than £130 - but he still has his debit card. He makes sure he can withdraw funds from it there, too. He’s surprised at finding another little lesson in the basic goodness of people when the man even tells him to be careful about where he uses it, or he might be surprised at the fees he’s charged. The clerk even tells him to contact his bank before he uses his card here, or they’ll freeze his account. It’s just another thing he hadn’t thought of before he left. 

When he has spendable money in his pocket again, he feels a little better. The first order of business is finding something for his stomach, because it’s starting to make its emptiness known to everyone around him. He notices a few fellow shoppers giving him strange looks when it rumbles particularly loudly, but none of the food looks familiar. 

He needs to find something that doesn’t have to be cooked and won’t leave any leftovers, but he really doesn’t know what that would be or where to find it. He wanders up and down aisles, trying to find anything. He finally ends up with a package of cookies and a small container of milk, but at least it’s enough to keep his belly quiet. He also picks up a guide to London, hoping it’ll help him feel a little more comfortable here.

He finds a quiet bench and munches on cookies while he flips through the book. There’s so much history here, and so many interesting things to see. He starts making a list of all things he wants to do, but he gets lost reading all the storied history, and he’s surprised to find he’s hungry again before he’s finished. 

He decides to find the internet cafe the woman from earlier had told him about. He’s got a map in his guide book, but it’s not the most detailed thing, and he gets lost twice on his way there. He decides that one of the advantages of leaving his life behind is that he had no schedule to keep to. He can do whatever he wants, whenever he wants - as long as his money holds out.

When he’s situated in the cafe with a real, authentic scone and a cup of tea, he takes his phone out and connects to the internet. He really wants to let his mom know he’s okay, but there’s no way in hell he’s gonna be able to afford international calls. He sends a long, detailed email though, and tells her to go ahead and call him if there’s any kind of emergency at home. He tries to let her know how much he loves and appreciates her, but it’s hard to get the feeling across in writing. 

Next, he contacts his bank. He lets them know that he’ll be making all his transactions in London for the foreseeable future. He waits for the confirmation email they told him to expect, and he’s just a little dismayed to see that it’ll take two days for things to clear. He’s gotta make the money in his pocket last that long. 

He’s walking out, no real plans on where he’s going yet, when he sees a notice board by the door. He decides to check it on the off chance that there may be something there he could use, maybe even some other people in the same circumstances as he is.

He sees a card with a listing for a hostel, and he knows that’s about the only option open to him. He knows he’s not going to be able to afford to stay in a nice hotel. He might not even be able to afford to eat, even if he finds someplace cheap, but he thinks this is probably his best option. 

He’s used to notices being posted on tear sheets, but this is just a handwritten note card with the address. It doesn’t even list a phone number, but he’s not about to waste the money calling, anyway. So he makes a note of it, and sets off to track it down.

It looked like a much shorter distance on his map than it turns out to be, and dusk is creeping at the edges of the sky by the time he finally gets there. He’s a little hesitant to be out alone in a strange city at night, and he feels silly for feeling that way. He tries telling himself that it’s just because he hasn’t gotten his bearings yet, that he’ll seize every opportunity that comes along, just not tonight. He’s tired and worn from traveling and the stress of realizing that he should have planned at least some of this before leaving everything that’s familiar.

When he finds the address he’s looking for, he’s not impressed with the look of the building. Historic doesn’t have to equate with rundown, nor authentic with decrepit. But it is what it is, and what it is, is something he can afford.

On closer inspection, it doesn’t seem to be quite as bad on the inside as it looks from the outside. There’s a desk, or rather a counter, just inside the entry. he can see open rooms to each side; one for dining and one for relaxing. The dining area is empty and cleaned, and it doesn’t look like he’s gonna be able to get a snack even if he checks in. The entertainment area is busy and noisy, though. There’s a big screen on the wall, and a few people are watching some reality show du jour. There’s a pool table with a game in progress. There are groups of people talking and drinking and dancing and generally enjoying each other, but through it all, there’s an edge,and it feels like an edge that he really doesn’t want to cross. It’s the edge that he saw in Josh’s eyes the last time he saw him. It’s a hard edge and a desperate edge, and he thinks it’s best to stay far back from it.

But he needs a room, or a bed, rather, as he finds out when the clerk comes out to talk to him. A bed in a twelve person dormitory style room is still going to cost him twenty dollars a night. He’s told that he’ll get a continental breakfast for his money - a danish and a cup of coffee, the clerk tells him - and access to the showers whenever he wants. What he won’t get access to is his bed or the room it’s in from ten until three. Cleaning time, the clerk says. 

He’s told that each bed has a lockbox in the room, but if he has anything of value, it should be left at the desk to make sure it’s safe. It doesn’t really give him a sense of peace of mind, but sleeping with eleven strangers probably won’t do much for that, either.

The clerk gives him a quick tour - the laundry, the showers, the kitchen and entertainment areas - before they get to his room. He’s got a middle bunk - he didn’t even realize that there would be bunkbeds, much less beds stacked three high. There’s an outlet by each bunk, but anything with light or noise has to be kept quiet and dark after eleven. He feels like he’s at summer camp again, and now he remembers why he hated going to camp. 

He hopes to hell that he can find a way to support himself soon. He can’t see himself fitting in here, and he damn sure can’t afford a hotel. Tomorrow, he thinks. Tomorrow he’ll sort things out and find out about getting a job and making some money. Tonight, he’s gonna sleep like he’s never slept before.

His plans and his sleep are interrupted as people start returning to their rooms for the night. Every time he settles in and closes his eyes, someone else comes in. The room he’s been put in is in the process of being filled. There are new people being brought in all night, and he’s more than just a little bit surprised to find out that it’s a co-ed room. It’s not a bad thing; it just doesn’t help him relax.

When morning comes, he’s awake to see the sunrise, and while watching the dawn come in in a new country is exciting, he still doesn’t feel rested. He takes his sweet roll and coffee and finds a quiet place to eat and plan the day. He pulls his guidebook out of his backpack, but he’s not really feeling the museum vibe. He’s in London! Music’s made here. The one place that’s been calling to him since he got here, the one place he can’t not see, is Abbey Road. He can feel his pace quicken at the thought of it. Maybe he’ll even take a picture or two while he’s there, and it’ll be a distraction and a destination for the hours he’s not allowed to be in his room.

He’s in no particular rush, so he wanders and takes his time, taking in some of the scenery along the way. There’s something majestic about the architecture of city, something with more history than he’s used to. He gets lost in his own mind after awhile, making stories to fit what he doesn’t know about the areas and buildings, and when he realizes he’s reached his destination, it’s almost a letdown. 

This is it, the spot of the famous album cover, but it looks so ordinary. He can’t feel the magic here, anymore than he could back at the hostel. He does take a few quick pictures with his phone, but they’re just pictures of a street. It could be any street anywhere, for all it means. 

Feeling slightly disappointed, he heads back to his favorite cafe. He got lucky yesterday in finding someplace to stay; maybe he’ll be just as lucky today in finding a job. He checks the board when he gets there, but there doesn’t seem to be anything he can do. There’s a card for driver needed, but he doesn’t have an international license. There’s one for a plasterer, too, but he knows fuck-all about plastering.

He even asks the person behind the counter if they need any help, but hearing his accent, the first question they ask him is if he has a work visa. Without it, they don’t even want to talk to him. So he finds a quiet place to sit and sip his tea, while life goes on around him. He’s still got time before he can go back to his room, and he takes advantage of the internet accessibility to check on his bank status.

When he finds out that his card is cleared for international use, it’s like a tiny ray of light. Something’s finally going right for him. He can have his room fees put on his his debit card and keep some of the cash in his pocket. It’s a small step in the right direction, but a step is a step, and it’s a start.

He wanders back to the hostel, where he’s supposed to have free wifi, but it never works, and tries to find something to keep himself occupied. A few of the other _guests_ talk to him in passing, but for the most part the people here seem to keep to themselves, at least until the drinking starts in earnest. It’s still a little too early for that.

He does find one almost-friend though. Another American traveling on his own, but Terry isn’t trying to make a new home for himself. He just wants to see the world before life gets serious, and this is his last night in London. He takes a few minutes to let Adam know which of his fellow lodgers to stay away from - seems like a few of them are only staying there because they just got out of jail and have nowhere else to go.

He goes to bed that night without hopes for restful sleep. Every noise, every shadow, sets him on edge and makes him jump. He tells himself that this is what he has now, this is his life, and he’d better get used to it, but it doesn’t help. He knows his place is out there; he just has to try harder to find it.

The rest of the week passes in the same way. He spends his days wandering, trying to find where he belongs, and his nights are spent just on the edge of full sleep. He stops in to pass time at his favorite cafe every day, knowing that he’s not going to find a magic solution to what he sees as the mess he’s made of his life, but feeling more relaxed and strangely secure there than anywhere else.

His first week in London ends with a shock when he gets the bill for his room. He gave them his debit card to charge it against after the first night, and the price on the statement is what they agreed to. What surprises him though, is that they charge their own exchange rate. He’s getting so much less for his dollars than he would have if he’d gone back to the post office station and taken care of it himself. Plus, they’re charging him a service fee for ripping him off. 

It causes a huge fucking argument with the clerk on duty, and Adam finds himself escorted off the premises and requested to never return. He’s back to being homeless, and this time it feels even worse. This time, he has no one but himself to blame for his position. He’s the one who left on a whim. He’s the one who thought his feelings were irreparably hurt by some fucking frat house contest. He’s the one who didn’t think ahead.

When he arrives in London, he kind of thought that he would go out, catch a taxi and just.. you know. Explore. Take in the sights, see the city – he’s only got a rucksack, and a laptop bag, surely he could at least do a couple hours checking out his new world, you know?

What actually happens is that Tommy Joe arrives at ass o’clock in the morning, dragging his rucksack, numb fingers clutching his laptop bag, and everywhere is fucking shut, and the taxi driver speaks something only vaguely like the English that Tommy Joe remembers from the TV.

He’s got no money that the driver will accept – “You in England, bruv, you ain’t gonna get nowhere wiv tha’” - which basically tells him he’s screwed, but the guy says that the bureau de change – the money place – opens for the early flight crowd in two hours.

So, yeah.

First impression of the UK, not so great. Tommy Joe sits in a waiting room with no airconditioning, and a funky smelling heater, and he’s so tired he can barely keep his eyes open. Even opening the laptop feels like too much for him, so he settles for people watching. Watching them come and go and have a purpose and a goal and something to work towards and someone they want to get back to, and it’s too fucking much, okay?

He came here to get away from everything - in this city, nobody knows him. Nobody cares who he is and he can try to pretend that fucking asshole of a fuckwit Lukas doesn’t exist.

But being still, not moving - it’s letting all those thoughts creep back and he just wants to stop thinking and start moving, like those people outside, who don’t care about anything but themselves.

He thought he was on his way to having some of that, but now he just closes his eyes and waits until he can talk to someone who can give him money he can actually use.

Adam’s feeling all the pressures build, and he can’t see his way around them as he walks into his favorite cafe, and he’s wondering about checking into getting a ticket back home before his money runs out. He doesn’t want to wait until it’s too late, but he doesn’t want to admit defeat either.

He waits as patiently as he can in line. Some part of his mind corrects it to queue, but he’s not sure about that yet. A week here isn’t quite enough to change who he is or how he talks and thinks. Except maybe it is. He’d thought he could make things right here, and he’s finding out that it’s not gonna work. A week ago he’d been just like the guy he sees at the front of the line, eager to jump in and experience all the local flavors of a new beginning, but now he’s on the verge of admitting defeat and going back to a place he’s hot ready to face again.

He wants to warn that boy, tell him that reality and dreams live in two different worlds, but something about the voice he hears coming out of his mouth stops him. It’s the accent. It’s the cadence. It’s the quick, lazy tempo that puts the sounds into words. Whatever else it is, it’s home too.

He watches from the end of the line as the clerk tries his best to convince the American he needs to try their Cream tea: that it’s necessary for any visitor if they want a true British experience while here. Except Adam swears he sees the newcomer bristle under the title of visitor. He stands up taller, which still isn’t even up to Adam’s shoulder and tries to look menacing. 

Adam can’t hold back any longer. It’s like watching a fluffy little duckling try to turn itself into a lion. He pushes his way up to the front and offers, “They try that with anyone who sounds American. Don’t take it personally.” Holding out his hand, he continues, “I’m Adam, by the way. And unless you want to throw your money away, just get a scone and jelly and a cup of tea.”

“Tommy,” his new friend answers, “and i don’t even know what a scone is, except the lady in the next seat on the plane spent at least eight hours telling me I had to try them.” 

He watches while Tommy pulls money out of his wallet and stares blankly at the currency. He pulls a few bills out and tells Tommy that should be enough. “If you would have gone with the Cream tea, it would have been at least another fiver.”

“Fuck, I don’t even know which one’s a quid and which one’s a pound,” Tommy says, still looking at the money in his hand, and this makes Adam laugh, really laugh for the first time in days.

It feels good to laugh, and it feels good to have company. But when he really looks at Tommy for the first time, his words and his laughter are gone. There’s something there that’s beyond recognizing an accent he grew up with. There’s something that’s outside of finding a kindred going through the same experiences he has. There something more than finding a piece of home to help settle his loneliness. 

When he really looks at Tommy, he sees more than the almost delicate frame and big, brown eyes. He sees more than a pretty face and a tight body. He sees more than another boy on the verge of manhood. What he sees is a fierceness and a determination that’s barely below the surface, and it gives Adam a return of some of his own purpose. 

He sees and senses a tested resolve that’s refused to break, no matter how far it’s been pushed. He watches and listens as the not quite tough looking rocker boy says thank you to the clerk in the most polite way. He stares as long, nimble fingers collect their change, and he knows those are the hands of a musician.

But most of all, he sees a laptop at Tommy’s feet and offers to help him with it while Tommy carries his food and drink. He’d left his own laptop back in his dorm room, and hopefully his mom had picked it up with the rest of his stuff. He’d thought his phone was good enough for traveling light, and at the time he hadn’t wanted to bring anything but absolute necessities, but he can’t help looking longingly at Tommy’s computer.

Tommy must notice, because when Adam sets it on the table, Tommy nods towards it and says, “Go ahead, man.”

He’s already opening it and turning the power on when he asks, “You sure? I mean, I promise I won’t do anything bad for it, but are you sure?” 

Tommy laughs as he breaks off a corner of his scone and pops it in his mouth. “Pretty sure there’s no way in hell you can hurt it. Thing’s a fucking monster. Besides, it’s still under warranty. If it’s gonna have a problem, now would be the best time for it.”

“I really want to look for a place to stay,” Adam says, detouring through facebook and his email on his way to find housing listings in the city. “I might have caused a little bit of trouble at the hostel I was staying at.”

“You? Seriously? No offense, dude, but you don’t look like the troublemaker type. As a matter of fact, you couldn’t look more like the nice boy next door type if you tried.”

“Yeah, well nice boys finish last, and sometimes they get taken advantage of on the way there.” 

Adam’s too busy clicking through various screens to pay attention to the look that crosses Tommy’s face, but he’d recognize it if he’d seen it. When he hears Tommy saying, “Yeah, sometimes they get fucked over good,” he does look up. He even thinks about asking what Tommy meant, but he’s not sure if this is the right time or place to get into things like that. He’s not quite ready to open himself up to someone else yet, and he’d have to reciprocate if he pried into Tommy’s life.

Instead, he starts typing in rooms to rent in the search bar, and before he’s more than three letters in, the program recognizes what he’s going for and fills in the rest. “You looking for someplace to stay, too?” he asks, clicking on one of the listings that comes up. It’s a nice little studio apartment, but it’s way out of his price range, and the landlord wants a year’s lease. He doesn’t even know if he’ll be here another week, let alone a year.

Tommy takes another bite of his pastry, saying, “These are just sweet biscuits, aren’t they?. And I need a place to stay, like, right now. I can’t afford to stay in a hotel, and I have no fucking idea what I’m supposed to do or where I’m supposed to go when I leave here, but I have until I finish this to figure something out.”

Adam really likes the fire purpose he sees in Tommy, even if he thinks it’s a little unrealistic. But he thinks that maybe they can help each other get through tonight at least. He’s got a few addresses on his phone of places he’s planning on checking out for tonight; one of them might have a couple of beds they can afford, because he’s not having much luck finding anything on Tommy’s computer. He takes a minute to update his facebook, so his friends will at least have some idea about where he is and how he’s doing, before he scrolls through his phone, looking for the information. 

Tommy stops him when he inadvertently opens his picture file. “Is that what I think it is? That’s Abbey fucking Road, isn’t it, dude?”

He doesn’t have the heart to tell Tommy that yes, it’s Abbey Road, but, no, it didn’t feel like the center of the musical universe when he was there. There’s an almost worshipful look in Tommy’s eyes as he looks at the picture, and Adam doesn’t want to be responsible for extinguishing it. Instead, he tells Tommy that he did lots of touristy shit in between trying to find a job, but neither one got him anywhere.

He has to admit to himself that he’s enjoying the hell out of listening to Tommy talking about chord progressions and innovative stylings that the Beatles used. He’s totally engrossed in watching the way Tommy’s mouth forms the words when a flash of the brightest pink he’s ever seen catches his eye.

It catches more than his eyes, because the clerk behind the counter waves to the man tacking the paper to the board by the entrance, and asks, “Sutan scared another one away, eh? He didn’t last long, now did he?”

Knocking on the door with the address they copied from the card at the cafe, Tommy can’t help but feel a little nervous. He’s been listening to Adam’s stories about the hostel he was staying at all the way here, and he can’t say he’s looking forward to living through something like that. Not in the least.

What he’s not fucking expecting is for the door to be answered by someone with the longest legs and the shortest shorts he’s ever seen. And the most exotic face. Somewhere along the way he hears the name Sutan, and he thinks that’s the most fucking perfect name, except he could swear the next line is something about except when he’s Raja, and then he _knows_ that name’s even more perfect. They both feel foreign and strange and almost alien in his head, but they both feel right. 

His tongue’s all tied up in knots, and he hopes Adam’s telling this person that they need a room that isn’t going to cost them much, because he can’t get past the part about lips and shoulders and collarbones that his mind keeps trying to focus on. 

"Sweeties, you want to live here?" He hears the words through the haze that won’t clear out of his brain and starts nodding his head like an idiot before he realizes he should actually try to form words.

"Yes." He’s tempted to add a please after it, but he doesn’t want to press his luck.

 

"Yes," he hears Adam echo his answer, and he looks over at him for the first time since the door opened. Adam’s standing there, staring just like he is, and now Tommy doesn’t feel so bad. There’s comfort in numbers, and there’s comfort in Adam, something he’s a little bit surprised to realize.

He’s more than a little confused when Sutan does a perfect turn and walks back into the house, but since he didn’t slam the door in their faces, he takes it as an invitation to follow him in. He’s even more confused when Sutan opens what looks like a closet door and says, "Earn it, bitches."

He can feel his adam’s apple working its way up and back down his throat as he swallows. He’s heard of things like this, maybe even seen it in a slasher movie, but he never expected it in real life. It probably wasn’t the best fucking idea to walk into a strange house in a foreign country, but... "....How?" 

Watching Sutan reach into the closet, Tommy doesn’t know what the hell to expect. He wants to trust him; Sutan seems like one of those people who’s supposed to be in his life, just like Adam does. He has to remind himself that he just met both of them, because, seriously? He’s pretty much putting his life in their hands right now, and he doesn’t have a problem with it. 

He’s not sure if what does happen is much better than what his mind was telling him could happen when Sutan hands over brooms and dustpans. “I need staff! You need a place to stay. We’re meant for each other, boys!”

After the first two hours, Tommy’s sure it would have been better is Sutan had pulled a chainsaw or a machete out of the closet. His fingers are all pruney, but they still feel grimy from cleaning the gunk out of corners that don’t look like they’ve been touched for at least six months. He’s not sure he would have stuck it out this long if Adam wasn’t right by his side, his own scrub brush busy working on a spot that looks like gum, but Tommy thinks it’s probably not. He doesn’t actually want to know what it is.

When Sutan comes up behind them and points out a few spots they might have missed, he mumbles, "Slave driving bastard,” as he smiles up at his new landlord and boss.

He has a second of panic when he sees the frown on Sutan’s face, but then he says, "Bitch, honey. I'm a bitch. Get it right," as he nudges Tommy’s shoulder with his knee, and everything’s good again. Well, everything except the part about him still being on his fucking hands and knees, scrubbing someone else’s mess.

By the time they finish the floor, Sutan has a ladder waiting. He’s even got fresh cleaning water, because apparently, you’re not supposed to use the same water for walls that you just used to scrub shit off the floor. Who knew?

It seems like cleaning goes on forever. When they’re finally done, Tommy looks around, expecting to see vast expanses of shining surfaces, only to discover they’d spent all that time cleaning the tiny entry hall. He looks at Adam and sees the same realization on his face and groans his frustration.

Sutan’s promise of, “Don’t worry, babies. Tomorrow you start the hard stuff,” doesn’t make him feel any better. He does sleep good that night, though, because no matter what else this house has or doesn’t have, it’s got the best damn bed that Tommy’s ever slept on. It might be the idea of sharing a room with Adam that makes him feel comfortable, too, but he’s gonna wait until morning at least to think about that.

Morning comes before Tommy’s ready for it, and so does the knocking at their door. He hears it open, knowing that oiling the hinges is gonna be one of the jobs on their list before long, and then he hears Sutan's voice. "Rise and shine, sunshines. Your buckets and brushes await. So does the community toilet, and it’s much easier to clean before everyone’s up and it’s occupied, so get moving."

"OH MY GOD." The smell hits him before he's even all the way in the bathroom. Why the fuck didn't he even notice it last night when he had to take a piss before he went to bed? And why the hell does it have to smell so bad so early in the morning?

"Don't invoke my name, honey, unless you know what you want." Sutan's standing there, looking all crisp and clean, knowing he's not going to be the one doing the scrubbing, the fucker.

"But... shit!" Because, yeah, just shit. That about covers everything, including some parts of the wall, and how the hell did anyone make that mess?

"Well done. Now you see why I need someone to take care of it. Get cleaning, you two."

They scrub walls and they scrub floors. They scrub showers and clean fixtures. They tease and talk and sometimes laugh, because if there’s one thing Tommy found out from his recent experience back home, it’s that it life hands you a bunch of shit, you either have to find something to laugh about, or you’re gonna end up crying. Having Adam there makes it easier to be able to laugh, and that brings up the questions he was going to try and work out answers to today - like why the hell he feels so safe with someone he just met? What is it about Adam that makes him feel happy and comfortable and protected and just _right_ somehow?

He gets a little bit lost in his mental wandering and wondering until he’s hit on the shoulder with a wet, soapy sponge. “You weren’t even listening, were you, Tommy? I could have just confessed to being a serial killer back home or something, and you’d never know”

He laughs right out loud at that, because the idea of Adam ever intentionally hurting someone is so fucking wrong. “Yeah, right. You a killer? Like, am I supposed to seriously consider that as a possibility?”

“What? I could be dangerous. I could have a past and be mysterious.” He laughs again as Adam tries to give him a flinty eyed stare, and it just doesn’t work for shit. All he sees is soft blue-gray eyes with maybe a little bit of experience in them. 

“No, dude, you’re more like a big puppy dog than a psycho.”

He sees Adam’s expression change. It closes down and looks hurt and resigned and all kinds of other shit that makes Tommy feel like scum, because he put that look there. He doesn’t know what the hell he said that was so bad. He tries going over it in his head, and he can’t find what would have made Adam feel bad, but he knows he did something.

Shit, SHIT, **SHIT!** Why does he always manage to fuck up whatever’s good in his life? How the fuck does he always turn something good into something bad and wrong and hurtful?

He sits there for a minute or two, feeling sorry for himself, completely forgetting about Adam until he hears him sigh. Then it dawns on him that no matter what he said, no matter what his intentions were, somebody’s in pain here, and it’s not him.

He looks over to where Adam’s sitting on the floor, arms around his legs and head down, folded in on himself and looking so small, and he sees that whatever it is that’s bothering him is bigger than just today. He goes over to Adam, sits next to him, and puts his arm around his shoulders. It feels like the right thing to do. It feels like what Tommy would want someone to do for him - just knowing that someone cares enough to let him know that they’re there for him, that he’s not all alone with whatever’s bothering him.

Adam sighs again and leans his head against Tommy’s shoulder before asking, “Am I really? Do you really see me that way? Like an overeager dog, willing to do anything to make people like me?”

“What? No, man, just...No. No fucking way I think you’re like that.” He can’t wrap his mind around whatever it is that put a thought like that in Adam’s head. From the second Adam walked into his life, he’s seen him as strong but caring, a force of fucking nature in human form. “I just met you, but i can already tell you’re like the most compassionate person I’ve ever known. You make me feel warm and safe and not so all alone. You’re the person I always wanted for my best friend, but never found before. I only meant I can’t picture you ever hurting someone just to see them hurt. You don’t seem like the kinda guy who’d get off on that.”

This time he feels Adam’s sigh more than he hears it, and it doesn’t have the same dejected feeling it had before. “I wish I’d met you sooner, Tommy.”

That’s all it takes for things to be right between them again, and he agrees with Adam - life would have been easier if they’d met sooner, but right now, the basic scrubbing is done, and all that’s left are the toilet bowls. There are three bowls, all in stalls, and three urinals. He’s never been in a boarding house before, let alone a toilet in a boarding house, but the inclusion of urinals seemed like such a good fucking idea last night and the worst thing he can imagine today. Looking at the crusted pee stains covering their sides and rims, he’s not looking forward to dealing with them. Bad aim happens sometimes, but he thinks some guys need target training with their toilet training.

Turns out that he might not have to, because Sutan’s only got one toilet brush. They could each do half, but they decide to go all or nothing, instead. Whoever has to do them this time gets the next time off. He knows there’s only one fair way to decide who takes the first shift, and apparently so does Adam, because they both practically shout _Rock, paper, scissors!_

He loses the first time out, but Adam being typically Adam, offers the best two out of three. He ends up going down again when Adam’s scissors beat his paper, and, damn, he was sure Adam would go for rock, but it looks like he’s got toilet detail today.

All in all, it could be worse. It’s actually not that bad if he doesn’t think about what he’s scrubbing. Having someone to keep him company makes it a hell of a lot easier to take, and Adam keeps him laughing with corny jokes about shitty jobs. "I'm gonna have to buy you breakfast after this, aren’t I?" Adam asks, making him laugh again.

"Breakfast and shit cleaning. You know how to treat a guy, Adam."

He’s on the next to the last bowl when Sutan comes in and says, "Adam, if you're not cleaning the toilet, you can get on and clean the kitchen."

He tries to hide his smirk behind his hair, which really needs a trim, but he hasn’t managed to find the time or the motivation to get it done. Besides, Marissa had always cut the band’s hair, and that wasn’t gonna fucking happen now. He knows that the kitchen holds even more dirty little secrets than the bathroom, and Adam’s gonna have his hands full trying to clean them up.

Swallowing hard, Adam says, ".....Last night's curry, right?"

"And the night before's, and the one before that, and the one before that, and Monday's Chinese, and Sunday's pizza. Hop to it. But don’t worry, sweeties. Raja’s going shopping today, and she’s planning on making her new boys look fabulous when she gets back."

Tommy wonders who Raja is and if it’s someone he should know since Sutan mentioned her before too, but he has a feeling he’s gonna find out soon enough.

Tommy decides to help Adam with the kitchen cleanup - after he’s done laughing his fucking ass off, that is. When he walks in, Adam’s got an apron and some kind of cap with ruffles or some shit, and he looks like he’d be right at home in a new production of Mary Poppins. Pulling the cap off, Adam mumbles something about having to scrape some unknown foodstuff off the ceiling and not wanting to get it in his hair. Fair enough, he thinks. Besides, Adam’s cute as all hell in it.

The kitchen turns out to be an even bigger job than the toilet had been. Seems like the muted rose color of the trim is really fluorescent fuchsia hiding under a layer of cooking grease. And it’s not like it’s embedded with dirt or anything. It looks like it just builds up quickly, maybe because there are so many people here. He’s counted six other guys and three women so far, but he knows not everybody’s up and moving around yet. 

By the time they finish the kitchen - and he’s never, ever, fucking ever gonna mention what he thinks he cleaned out from under the stovetop - it’s way past breakfast time and even a little late for lunch. But Adam fucking promised him a meal, and he’s not gonna let him off the hook. “You promised, dude. You’re gonna feed me.”

They decide to make use of the clean bathroom to take showers before they eat, and Tommy’s a little weirded out by knowing that Adam’s naked right next to him, with only a plastic curtain between them. It’s not like the idea of a naked man bothers him; it’s just that he’s not quite ready for the way that knowing it’s Adam’s naked body that’s so close makes him feel. He keeps looking over, trying to see Adam’s silhouette on the curtain, and that makes him feel sleazy, like a fucking peeping tom, but he can’t help wanting to see more. All in all, it makes for even more confused emotions.

After showers that are long enough and hot enough to guarantee that every pore on their bodies is steam cleaned, they meet back in the kitchen. Adam’s there waiting when Tommy gets there, because he’d been a little preoccupied and hadn’t even started washing until Adam was done and out of the shower.

He sees that Adam took him seriously about feeding him, because there’s a plate with cubed cheeses and bite sized pieces of fruit already on the counter, but it’s just one plate, and that has Tommy a little confused. 

Adam pulls two chairs so they’re facing each other and motions for him to sit on one. Adam sits on the other and puts the plate near himself, not quite out of Tommy’s reach, but far enough away for him to know that Adam’s in charge of it. “When I said you still had to feed me, I didn’t mean _feed me_ , feed me,” Tommy tells him, swallowing a lump that feels like it’s trying to block all the air he knows is in the room from actually entering his lungs. 

Adam just tells him to hush as he first puts a grape then a piece of gouda in his mouth. He’s never been anywhere close to daring with his food choices. Cheese belongs between two slices of bread, or on macaroni or pizza. He’s never really thought of something like this as a meal, but he thinks he likes it. Or maybe it’s the way Adam’s feeding him that he likes. He really doesn’t know, but he lets his eyes shut and his mouth close around Adam’s fingers when he feeds him a slice of pear because it feels like the right thing to do.

He likes the way Adam’s breath catches then. He likes the way Adam’s fingers twitch just the tiniest bit in his mouth, too. He likes the way it feels intimate and private in a way he wasn’t expecting. What he doesn’t like is hearing an almost familiar voice saying, “I see how it is, boys,” when he hasn’t had quite enough time to be able to see it himself.

He opens his eyes, ready to tell Sutan he can fuck right off, but it’s not Sutan standing there. It’s almost Sutan. He can see hints of Sutan in the face and mannerisms, but they’re different and very definitely female. This is the tallest, most exotic woman he’s ever seen in his life. 

He tries to take in everything about her all at once, but it’s too much, so he settles for small bits and pieces that his brain tries to put in order. The shoes catch his eye first, because how can anyone seriously walk in shoes like that? He’s never seen heels that high before, but they do make the legs they’re attached to look damn fine. There’s just enough muscle definition showing in them to make things interesting. And then there’s the flirty little fuck me of a dress, and his dick appreciates the way it outlines the jut of a hipbone while still hiding mysteries. The long, dark hair shines a halo that doesn’t distract from the face it frames, but accentuates it, and that face stops Tommy cold. It’s totally Sutan’s face, but it’s absolutely not, and he can’t quite bring it clear how both could be true. “You eat Sutan’s soul or something?”

“Oh, honey, aren’t you just the cutest thing?” Looking at Adam, who doesn’t look quite as lost as Tommy thinks he does, his mouth hanging open and shit, she says, “He’s cute when he tries to look so serious, isn’t he?”

Adam’s actually smiling at her when he says, “I think he really is serious.”

“When you two are done being all mysterious, somebody can let me in on the joke, okay?” He knows they know something he doesn’t, and it bothers him when he feels excluded, especially when it makes him feel excluded from Adam. He looks down at his lap, because he doesn’t feel comfortable looking anywhere else right now, and he knows he probably looks like a baby, sitting there pouting, but he doesn’t give a fuck.

He hears the sound of someone very sure and practiced walking across the room in stilettos just before he feels a hand gently take his chin and raise his head. He looking right into the most amazingly made up face he’s ever seen, and he’s beginning to put things together. “Oh, sweetie, I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Raja: Sutan’s other, more fabulous side.” He can see it all now - how the makeup works with the features of the face, while changing them at the same time. “I’m a sassy bitch with great shoes and better hair than you can ever dream of, darling.” 

He doesn’t fight when Raja pulls him in for a hug. He likes the way it feels, and he likes the way she smells. And even though he knows that Sutan is in there somewhere, right now the person holding him is completely Raja, completely female, and he likes the idea of anyone being able to embrace their duality that way. It’s something that he wants to give more time to, to think over a whole lot more.

Before he can, Raja sets the bags she has in her hands on the table and tells them both, “Tranma got you prezzies, boys. Finish your snack, so we can start making you over into the people you were meant to to be.”

He’s not sure he really wants to be someone else. He hasn’t even had time to find out who he really is now, but Raja sees the look on his face and says, “Don’t worry, baby. We’re gonna start small. Hair first. No more mousy brown for you. When you're that mouthy, you need hair that goes with it.”

He hears Adam snickering, and he sticks his tongue out at him when Raja says, “I have plans for you too, honey. You need to bring out your inner fabulousness. Ginger's cute. You’re not meant for cute. You’re meant for tall, dark and a little bit dangerous. Just wait. You’re gonna love it.”

By the time they go to bed, he has to admit that he likes the blond Raja picked out for him. He’s having a little trouble with the new cut, though. His hair keeps trying to fall over one eye, and he’s not quite used to having to look through it, but it makes him feel bigger and maybe a little stronger than he did before.

And Adam...The change in Adam is amazing. Not that there was anything wrong with him to start with, but now he looks so powerful and flawless that the perfection of it breaks Tommy’s heart a little bit. He thinks life’s about to get more interesting, and he falls asleep with a smile.

Sutan not only makes them clean for their keep, but they have to take their turns making dinner, too. Adam’s okay with simple things - microwave food, mostly - but Tommy says he’s never cooked anything but frozen pizzas. It doesn’t make a difference to Sutan, though. He just hands them a cookbook and says, “Everyone has to start somewhere, but it better be fabulous, bitches.”

So after a morning spent painting the one empty bedroom, they find themselves in the kitchen with an instruction manual and a pantry that doesn’t have the ingredients for anything they feel confident in making. Until Tommy spots a box of pasta, that is. 

Spaghetti’s easy, right? Cook the pasta, heat the sauce, and it’s practically an instant meal. Except when they ask Sutan where he keeps the spaghetti sauce, and his reply is, “Try page 357,” they realize they may be in over their heads.

Opening the recipe book to the aforementioned page, they find out that their plans for a quick dinner have just turned into a four hour cooking marathon. It seems that while Sutan doesn’t keep convenience foods in stock, he does have all the ingredients for authentic meat sauce.

Tommy’s a little lost, which Adam totally gets when he hears his friend saying, “Fuck, I just wanted a jar of Ragu.” It’s going to be an experience for both of them, and he wants to do whatever he can to make it a good one, so he pulls out the big stockpot and a package of pork neck bones hiding in the back of the freezer while he tells Tommy what vegetables to look for. 

Luckily, Sutan does have cans and jars of prepared tomato products. They find paste and sauce and diced and stewed tomatoes, because if they had to start completely from scratch, they would’ve had to have started last week, he thinks.

He sees Tommy’s growing pile of vegetables on the counter; the zucchini and peppers and onions and mushrooms and garlic look like they would be right at home in a magazine advertisement for healthy cooking. Just as Tommy picks up a knife to start chopping, Sutan comes in to tell them he’s going out to pick up the perfect bottle of red to compliment tonight’s menu. 

“Oh, baby,” Sutan says, wagging a finger in Tommy’s direction as he reaches in one of the cupboards to find a cutting board, “you can wound my sensibilities, but if you wound that countertop, you’ll have to face the wrath of Raja. Remember - save the counter, save your ass.”

Tommy looks up at Sutan, all big brown doe eyes, and with a deadpan delivery that has Adam laughing out loud, says, “Been saving my ass my whole fucking life. Hasn’t done me any good yet.”

Adam has a feeling the remark isn’t as offhand as it seems.

They’re in the middle of scrubbing unknown substances out of the corners of the bathroom yet again when Sutan tells them that they can have the afternoon and evening off if they can be out of the house in an hour. He’s having a few friends over to try and work out new costumes for his drag show, and they’re not ready for an audience yet.

Adam’s just a little bit disappointed because he really wants to see what they come up with, but Tommy’s more than ready to go, insisting that if he stays, Sutan’s just gonna dress him up and turn him into a living mannequin. He tells Adam that one time being tied to a chair while Raja made him all pretty is more than enough, thank you very much. An hour is plenty of time to get ready, but once they’re set to go, they realize they really have no idea what they want to do. .

Tommy’s not in the mood for a trip to the library, and Adam doesn’t feel like spending the day in a dark museum even if Tommy insists the mummies make it worth the effort. They’ve got enough extra money for a nice dinner, but neither one has much beyond that. They’re still discussing their options when Sutan bustles past them humming a song under his breath. Just as he’s passing them, he sings the words, “Lady Madonna, children at your feet.” He looks right at them when he sings it, and Adam swears he sees Tommy standing up a little straighter.

Adam’s on the verge of informing Sutan just how far he is from a child because he’s so tired of that shit, when Tommy grabs his hand and starts pulling him out the door, telling Sutan how wise he is, and Adam’s not sure what the hell he’s talking about because no one has a bigger chip on their shoulder than Tommy Joe when it comes to not wanting to be treated like a kid. He’s completely lost until Tommy asks, “You still remember the way to Abbey Road, right? 

His brain kicks in and starts working then, putting two and two together and coming up with the fact that he’d been less than impressed with the tourist spot when he’d gone by himself. But the smile on Tommy’s face is enough to push him past any reluctance to revisit it. He loves seeing Tommy like this - so happy and open and almost childlike. It’s the side of Tommy that he tries to keep covered up most of the time, and Adam’s glad that Tommy feels comfortable enough not to hide it under restrictive, protective layers. Adam’s mind wants to see it as some major step along the path of building trust, but he’s afraid to let himself be carried away again.

It’s as if Tommy knows what Adam’s thinking, because the never-let-them-see-you-smile mask slides back in place, but Adam knows what he saw, and he knows how much he liked it.

Most of the way there Tommy’s walking backwards - skipping backwards, actually, but Adam loves his enthusiasm. He’s even enjoying the song by song dissertation Tommy’s giving him. The times that Tommy reaches out and grabs his hand to emphasize a point or just to hurry him along don’t escape his attention either. He can’t help comparing it to the last time another man held his hand in public, but this is nothing like the grand gesture Josh had made it out to be. This is natural and right and not contrived and just what it is - just like Tommy.

He can’t seem to make his mind stay away from making comparisons between Josh and Tommy, and he’s not sure why he keeps doing it. Tommy’s his friend. Josh was...Well, he’s not sure exactly what Josh was to him, but the word friend is nowhere close to whatever it was. The closest he can come up with is that Josh was a fuck. His first fuck, maybe, but just a fuck. He doesn’t ever want to think of Tommy like that.

Tommy’s enthusiasm is contagious, and he finds himself joining in the discussion of what made each song special. Sometimes their thoughts converge, and he has the _oh, my god, this is so perfect_ feeling. Other times they have differing views, and he loves the way Tommy can be such a shit about not backing down from an argument, how he stands up for what he believes, how he keeps arguing his point until Adam’s frustration level pushes him to do the only thing he can think of to make him be quiet for one minute and listen.

Adam kisses him. It’s not a quick peck on the lips, but it’s not a deep kiss either. It is what it is, just like they are what they are, and Adam can’t believe he did it. He can’t believe Tommy let him do it, either. When Adam pulls back he’s ready to apologize, but Tommy doesn’t let him. Instead, he starts talking before Adam can even begin to find words. “You just did that because you know I’m right. But, whatever. It’s cool. You’re cool. We’re cool.”

Then Tommy takes his hand and pulls him down the street again, like nothing unusual happened. 

Tommy’s still talking when they get to their stop, and it’s almost like his mind hits a brick wall when Adam stops and he finally notices where they are. His words don’t trail off or peter out; they just come to a full stop. Adam sees the look of wonder pass over Tommy’s face, and it’s like the sun breaking through the clouds. Tommy’s in awe, standing so still that Adam doesn’t even know if he’s breathing or not. He would kiss him again, just to make sure, but he thinks that might be a little awkward. He counts off seconds, getting to ten before Tommy even blinks, but the stasis is broken all at once. 

Tommy’s laughing and talking and pulling him from one spot to the next, and all he can do is try to keep up. They have to explore every inch of the crosswalk and the buildings, and he’s not surprised when Tommy asks a perfect stranger if they can borrow his sharpie to write on the wall. 

Adam takes his phone out to take a picture of it, knowing that their messages will be painted over soon enough, but they’ll always have proof of this minute in time. And while he has it out, he convinces Tommy to cross the street, so he can take a picture of him. 

He shouldn’t be surprised that Tommy seems to know the exact angle the album cover picture was taken at, and the exact spot George Harrison was in when it was taken. It does make him giggle when Tommy tries to match the stride from the picture. There’s no way Tommy’s legs are ever gonna be able to stretch that far.

Adam thinks there’s something absolutely adorable about the way Tommy won’t back down from the challenge, but every time he gets close to the right pose, he has to move because of oncoming traffic. Agam keeps taking pictures though, right up until he can’t stop laughing, that is. Tommy comes back over to him in a huff, and the tone he uses when he says, “Not my fault the dude had fucking long legs, man,” can only be called blustering. 

“Besides, it’s your turn now. See if you can do any better,” Tommy tells him, and he’s up for the challenge, except he only has vague recollections about who was where and how they were walking in the picture. He thinks if he crosses the street a few times, he’s bound to get one good pose that’ll satisfy Tommy. When he walks back, Tommy tells him to go do it over again - that none of the pictures turned out right. 

So he crosses the street a few more times in between waiting for traffic to clear, and he thinks if this goes on much longer, it’s gonna be too dark for a good picture anyway, but Tommy makes him go through it one more time before they’re done. He has a feeling that Tommy’s just enjoying being here, in the place that history was made, and using the picture taking failures as an excuse.

When he’s finally finished walking back and forth, he tells Tommy, “You’re not fooling me. I know exactly what you’re doing.” He’s surprised to see a blush creeping up Tommy’s neck and across his cheeks, and he’s surprised that Tommy doesn’t have some smartass comeback. 

Instead, Tommy says, “Maybe we should go have dinner now,” and Adam can’t figure out what the hell he has to be embarrassed about.

Sitting at the restaurant, waiting for their food, Tommy asks to see the pictures Adam took. He holds his phone just out of Tommy’s reach, winks and says, “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” 

“M’kay, but don’t laugh,” Tommy tells him, and he has no idea what there would be to laugh about - until he sees picture after picture of nothing but clouds or pavement or strangers.

“I thought you were taking pictures of me.”

“I was. I really was, but I kept getting distracted.”

And now he’s kinda hurt, thinking about someone else catching Tommy’s attention while they were spending time together. “Was she pretty, at least?”

“What? No, man, you were the one being distracting.” Tommy’s blushing again, but Adam’s smiling so hard he has to hang his head a little to hide it from the crowded restaurant. All of a sudden this doesn’t feel like something he wants to share with other people. “Seeing you there, you looked like you fucking belonged. You looked so big and strong and perfect, and I tried to focus on taking your picture, but I just kept staring and ended up taking pictures of random shit.”

Tommy looks so upset with himself that Adam can’t find even one small part of himself that might be mad over not having a picture he didn’t want or expect in the first place. “Aw, Tommy Joe, it’s not important. I had fun just being there.”

Tommy takes his phone back and scrolls to the last picture in the gallery before handing it back to Adam. “I made myself get it together enough to get one good one. Had to have something to remember the day.” 

The lighting, focus and pose are all perfect, and Adam can’t believe how good everything looks, even him. All he can say is, “Holy Shit,” because Tommy captured something about him that he’s never seen before. There’s confidence and swagger, and it makes him look larger than life.

But while he’s admiring Tommy’s work, Tommy’s checking out all the pictures he took. He’s almost ashamed of how many he did take, especially after Tommy’s explanation. He really appreciated his subject matter, though, and the camera seemed to love it too, even if it was only a camera phone. 

Tommy looks up with a confused frown and asks, “What happened to Abbey Road? I mean, I’m in these, and they look nice and all, but they could be anywhere.”

Adam takes his phone back and looks at the shot Tommy has up. It’s the one where the sunlight was shining off his hair just right. It looked all soft and glowing - almost like a halo. “I had to pull it in tight to get the right effect,” Adam explains. “Too much distraction in the background would have totally ruined it. And this one,” he continues, flipping to the next picture, “see how well I got that look on your face? The one that means you’re not gonna give up until you get what you want? I love that look.”

Going through picture after picture, Adam explains why they’re all closeups of just Tommy. There is one that has enough background to place it, but just barely. The others are tight and good and highlight all the things Adam loves about the way Tommy looks and walks and even thinks, and he’s planning on saving them forever.

They talk about their lack of photography skills while they eat, laughing and chatting and enjoying the evening. They pass phones back and forth whenever a new aspect of one of the pictures is discovered, not even realizing how often their hands touch or how long they keep in contact. The warmth of a perfect day seems to cover them both, and before they realize it, it’s time to pay their bill and go back home. Adam’s a little shocked that he’s come to think of Sutan’s house as home now, but that’s exactly what it feels like.

Tommy likes the way the weeks go by at Sutan’s house. It’s never dull, that’s for fucking sure, but it’s never pressured either. Everything is just what it is, and that’s okay with him. It means he gets to be who he is, and more importantly, he gets to find out exactly who that is.

For the first time since he was too young to be exposed to peer pressure, he gets to find out who and what he really is, and he thinks he’s really starting to like the person he finds. He doesn’t have to be the tough rocker dude anymore. That part of him stayed back home with Lucas and Marissa and the rest of the band. He doesn’t have to worry about people looking down on him because he’s not big because nobody in his life now cares about that, and nobody here wants to pick on him or make him prove himself, anyway. He can just be.

He sees Adam blossoming before his eyes too, and that shit is so much fun to watch. Adam’s not afraid to go toe to toe with Sutan when he thinks he needs to. Hell, he’s even seen Adam stand up to Raja, and that could be deadly if he’s not careful. But Raja respects Adam. Everyone here respects Adam, and that seems to be what Adam needed most in his life. 

They spend their mornings working for Sutan in exchange for their room and board. In the afternoon they do odd jobs or run errands for the other boarders to make a little extra money. He never knew he had a knack for fixing things until Steve’s bike started giving him problems when he shifted gears. It wasn’t even that much of a repair - more like a general maintenance cleaning - but he and Adam sat and worked on it until they got it up and running again, and then everyone started bringing things to them to fix. 

And when they get to spend time together picking up Gwen’s cleaning or tracking down the cookies that Shawn saw at some bakery that he can’t quite remember the name of, they always take time to learn their way around the city a little bit more, because this feels like home, and they should be able to find their way around their own home.

They laugh and tease and maybe flirt a little when they’re together, and Tommy’s not quite sure how serious Adam is about the flirting part, but he hopes there’s something real there, because what he’s feeling is real. He’s not even sure when it started being more than just a game for him. One day he just knew, and he knew it felt right and good and like a missing part of his life was finally filled.

He thinks he’s seen flashes of it in the way Adam looks at him sometimes, but he really doesn’t know for sure. This is like some fucked up dance they’re doing around each other, and it’s frustrating as all hell. But when Adam puts an arm around his shoulder, he knows it feels safe. It feels comfortable and warm and like where he should be. It makes him curl right in to that space at Adam’s side.

While the days are busy and confusing, the nights are even more so. Sutan and his friends are getting their show ready for stage, and he and Adam are their preferred mannequins and test audience. He thinks Sutan likes making them pretty more than he admits, though. He doesn’t mind spending a few hours letting his Tranma draw on his skin. He gets pampered and babied and cooed over, and the look on Adam’s face when he sees the result is totally worth it. 

And he loves watching Sutan work on Adam, dusting him with glitter and decorating him with rhinestones. Sutan knows how to bring out a fierceness in Adam that has Tommy popping wood more often that he’ll ever admit to anyone.

Some nights Sutan makes them up and takes them out to a club. He says it’s to see how well a certain technique works in public, but Tommy thinks he could have accomplished the same thing without them if that were the case. He’s not gonna complain though. He’s discovering things about himself, and not the least is that he likes being pretty, and he likes being noticed. He really fucking likes it when Adam notices him being noticed, because then Adam pushes in all close and covers him in a feeling of _mine_.

Of course it goes both ways. Adam gets noticed when they go out, too. Adam gets noticed plenty. It’s hard not to notice someone who’s head and shoulders above almost everyone else. There’s that way Adam stands that sets him apart from everyone else - back straight but not stiff, shoulders back and chin up. It says pride and strength and confidence, and Tommy thinks it’s the sexiest fucking thing ever. And then there’s Adam’s perfect face, with it’s perfect eyes and perfect nose and perfect, freckled lips... Tommy’s had to face off against a few pretty boys who made a play for Adam. He tells himself that he’s doing it because they’re not right for Adam, that they’re not good enough for him, but he sees Raja smiling at him, and his mind still hears her saying _I see how it is, boys_.

With all the shit going on during the days and the evenings, it’s the quiet time at night that’s his favorite. When it’s just him and Adam, alone in their room, he can finally breathe and think. He can talk, too. Lying in his bunk, knowing Adam’s in the bunk above, makes him feel like he’s thinking out loud, but with a sympathetic spirit listening. He’s still surprised at how easy it is to talk to Adam. He shares everything with Adam: the good, the bad, the ugly and the humiliating, and he knows Adam won’t judge him. He tells Adam about the band and Marissa and her lies that ruined everything, and Adam reaches a hand down to hold his while he gets through the hardest part of it. 

And when Adam tells him about growing up, knowing he wasn’t the same as the other kids, Tommy wants to climb right up on Adam’s bunk and give him a hug. When Adam tells him about going through high school dateless and feeling unloved, he does climb up and hug him, because that shit’s just not right. It’s a hard enough time to get through under the best of circumstances, and he’s more than a little bit in awe of Adam for having made it.

The night Adam tells him about college and Josh and all the fucking shit he went through and how it made him cut and run, Tommy climbs up with him and holds him. He whispers soothing sounds in Adam’s ear, all the while wanting to hit and hurt whoever was responsible for making him feel this way. He stays there all night, too, and when Sutan comes the next morning to tell them chores are waiting, he doesn’t bother waking them up. He just smiles and closes the door again.

~*~

Finally, the day of Sutan’s show arrives, and Raja is queen bitch all day. He and Adam know it’s from nerves, but that doesn’t stop them from giving her a hard time. She threatens them with having them barred from entry at the club, and it’s enough to make them behave themselves. Tommy’s never seen a real drag show before, and Raja’s never headlined one, so they’re both bouncing off the walls with excitement.

Adam’s cool and in charge, and the way he gives orders and instructions has Tommy wishing more of those commands were directed at him. He might not like being told what to do, exactly, but the tone Adam uses when he’s directing people does things to him - nice things, things he’d like to have happen when it’s just him and Adam, alone in their room.

By the time they have all the costumes and accessories and trappings safely moved to the dressing room at the club, Tommy’s more than ready to grab a beer and watch the show. They’re early enough that they find a table up front, but the club starts filling fast, and by the time the show starts, he’s almost sitting on Adam’s lap.

He doesn’t mind the forced closeness. As a matter of fact, he takes advantage of it by leaning in even closer. He likes the way it feels when Adam puts his arm around his shoulders, pulling him in as tightly as is comfortable. There’s a whole commanding side of Adam coming out tonight, and his dick is starting to pay attention.

They watch the show, laugh when they’re supposed to laugh and applaud when everyone else does. Tommy hopes Raja doesn’t expect a detailed critique later, because he’s too wrapped up in how much he likes feeling Adam’s heartbeat pressed right up against him to pay too much attention.

When Raja leaves the stage for the last time, Adam puts his mouth right up against Tommy's ear to tell him that they better go back and see if she needs any help packing things up. He shivers as he feels the warm breath tickling and teasing his sensitive skin. He not sure what tonight's been, but it's surrounded in some kind of magic fog that he hopes never clears.

Adam stands first and reaches out a hand to help Tommy out of the jumble of people and chairs, but before they can even start for the dressing rooms backstage, someone bumps into him, and he bumps into someone else. Somewhere along the line, a drink is spilled, and Tommy's not surprised when the guy he bumped blames him for it. He's not surprised when tempers flare, either. He's been in his share of fights before. His first band didn't count the night a success unless a fight broke out. He's not big, but he's pretty good at taking care of himself in a fair fight.

Except this might be a little over the not so fair side, because the dude who's about to square off on him is at least six inches taller than he is, and has about seventy pounds of extra muscle. Guy's gotta be a fucking body builder or some shit, and Tommy knows somebody's gonna get fucked up before the night's through. He just hopes it won't hurt too much tomorrow.

He sees a fist coming his way, and he knows there's no room to duck and come in low, like he would usually try. There're more people here than fire codes should allow, and he can't get out of the way. He's trying to figure out the best way to roll with the punch when he sees a hand come out of nowhere and close right around the fist that was making its way towards his face. He sees another fist connect with the big guy's nose, and fuck, that giant crashes hard when he goes down. There's blood gushing from the fucker's nose, and Tommy knows it's broken. He was close enough to hear it break.

He also knows whose fist it was that broke it. He recognized the ring on it, and he turns to see Adam holding his sore hand with his other one. Adam decked the giant with one punch, just to save his ass! Tommy's never had anyone do anything like that for him, and he wants to find someplace quiet and private where he can let Adam know just how much it's turning him on, but before they can move there are security people holding them, telling them the cops on on the way.

Somebody’s holding a bar towel against the big dude’s nose, but it’s not stopping the bleeding. They guy’s sitting on the floor, yelling about Adam attacking him, unprovoked. He’s sputtering and threatening to press charges, and Tommy can see a look of resignation on Adam’s face. It’s like he expects and accepts what the jerk is saying about him, and Tommy’s not gonna let that shit go on for one second longer.

He has to stand on his tiptoes, but he holds Adam’s head between his hands and kisses him right on the mouth. When the security people start pulling Adam into one of the back rooms, Tommy says, “Thanks, man. I think you saved my fucking life.”

~*~

He’s given his story over and over - to more people that he remembers - but this officer is different. He’s asking Tommy questions the others didn’t.

"Where you from, son?" the officer asks, because even Tommy knows he doesn't sound local. 

"America. Sir." He’s been in fights before, and he’s been rousted before. He knows how to give his answer snap.

"Oh, sir. That's a good one. You studying here?"

He doesn’t think now is a good time to go into how he’s starting a new life, a better life, and finding out who he really is at the same time, so he says, "No. No, just here for a .... break, I suppose." 

"I see. How long do you have left?"

He has no idea how to answer that, but the officer’s looking at him like he expects one. "...What do you mean?"

"Check your visa documents, son. Or I'll have to come and arrest you, and I don't like arresting people. As it is, I’m going to have to take your friend in for the night. If everything checks out, you can come collect him in the morning."

“What? ...Wait, you can’t arrest him. It wasn’t even his fault. If you’re gonna arrest anyone, arrest me.”

“You’re not the one who threw the punch that broke someone’s nose, are you?”

“No, but he only did it to keep me from getting hit. He can’t go to jail for protecting me.” Just thinking about Adam spending the night in a cold jail cell makes Tommy want to cry. It’s not fucking fair. Adam was only doing what he thought he had to do to keep him from getting hurt. He’s never had anyone outside of his family who was willing to risk pain and punishment for him. He’s never had anyone he felt comfortable telling all his secret thoughts to. He’s never had anyone who felt so right at his side and in his life. He’s never had anyone who made him want to go to his fucking knees before. Suddenly it all adds up to one thing, and before he can stop himself, he says, “I...I think I love him.” 

And, fuck! He should have known that that would be the same second that they were bringing Adam out of the back to the waiting police car in front. It seems like the whole club heard him say those words, and judging by the way Adam’s staring at him, there’s not a chance in hell that he didn’t pick up on them. He can’t do anything but look at Adam as the police lead him out, and Adam keeps looking back at him.

He’s not even sure when Raja came out and put her arms around him. He’s laser focused on watching Adam until they close the door and drive away with him. Then he can’t hold it together. He feels the burn of the tears first, and he buries his face against her chest, letting everything go. 

He feels a strong hand on his shoulder and hears the officer say, “Come ‘round in the morning, son. We’ll keep him safe until then.”

Raja takes him home without taking the time to change first. He’s glad it’s Raja and not Sutan. It’s easier for him to break down in front of Raja, and he doesn’t even fucking care what that says about him.

But it is Raja, and she sits him down on the couch at the boarding house and sits right next to him so she can keep her arm around him. She pets his hair and tells him that everything’s gonna be fine in the morning, but the time’s come to talk about futures and plans and what’s possible, because the authorities are probably telling Adam about it right now. 

He knows the whole visa thing is the fucking weakest link in the chain that’s holding his new life together, and both he and Adam should have taken care of things before. There’s not much chance of Adam getting anything approved now that he’s been arrested, and Tommy wants to scream and cry all over again about how unfair it is.

Raja even puts him to bed, but without the sound of Adam’s breathing, he can’t fall asleep. He lies there, watching the darkness turn to gray then to the rosey-gold of dawn before his eyes close.

~*~

Tommy’s up before anyone, mostly because he never really went to sleep. He dozed, but every time he did, he started dreaming of Adam, alone and in jail. He even tries sleeping in Adam’s bunk, but being able to smell him only makes everything worse.

He keeps telling himself that this isn’t the end of the world, that people get in fights all the time, but it feels bigger than that. It feels like it’s gonna mean the end of their perfect time together, and he’s not gonna let that go quietly. He’s gonna fight against it with everything he has.

He doesn’t think they’ll deport Adam over it, but there’s a fucking good chance that they’ll give him a time limit to go back to someplace that doesn’t feel like home anymore. Tommy knows that he’ll probably be given a deadline too, and that’s why Sutan tells him he has to stay home while he goes to pick up Adam.

He hates waiting, and he hates waiting by himself even more. He paces and he cleans and he paces some more, but it doesn’t make time go any faster. The kitchen fucking sparkles by the time he’s done with it, and it just reminds him of the time Sutan dumped a whole jar of glitter dust on Adam’s head. That shit got into everything.

Finally he hears the front door opening, and he doesn’t know if he should run to Adam and kiss him, or hide. He really has no idea how Adam’s gonna react to the grand confession he’d made last night. He doesn’t know if Adam feels the same way about him.

He decides to take a carefully optimistic chance, and he waits in the doorway between the entry and the kitchen. He sees Adam walk in, head down and sleep mussed, and it’s too much. He crosses the distance between them in under a second and wraps his arms around Adam’s big, strong chest, holding him tight. He’s never planning on letting go, but he feels Adam pulling back, and he thinks this is it - this is where Adam’s gonna tell him sorry, but no, that he’s not interested in Tommy that way.

Instead he hears, “Did you mean it? What you said at the club? Did you really mean it?”

He can’t seem to find words, only tears, but he tries to blink them away as he nods his head. And then Adam’s lips are on his, and this time it’s not quick or offhand. There’s something more there, and it feels like a promise. When he feels the tip of Adam’s tongue teasing the seam of his lips, he opens up for the kiss to go further into that promise, and it’s like no other kiss he’s ever felt.

This time he can feel it all the way from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, and he wants to curl in and save this moment for fucking ever. He’s still got his arms around Adam’s waist, and he tries to pull him even closer. He can feel Adam’s hands in his hair, working their way through the strands before they take hold and Adam takes charge.

He’s forgotten there’s a world outside of him and Adam until he hears Sutan’s not so subtle footsteps and voice. “Cute as this is, sweeties, you might like the privacy of your own room more.”

They can’t keep their hands off each other as they climb the stairs, sharing kisses and touches and laughter. When they get to their room they find the shades drawn, the lights off, and a candle burning on the dresser, softly illuminating the lube and condoms Sutan must have left there. Tommy’s never again gonna doubt that Sutan really does see how things are.

He start to pull his tee shirt off, but hears Adam say, “Wait,” as he takes hold of the hem himself. “I kinda want to do that, if it’s okay.”

It’s more than okay. It’s what he wants and what he needs. It’s fucking perfect. He lets Adam undress him - taking one piece off and taking his time to admire what it reveals before moving on to the next. It’s strange in a way; not feeling embarrassed over it, but Tommy doesn’t feel like he’s being inspected. He feels like he’s being worshiped.

When Adam pulls his briefs down, Tommy’s dick finally gets to come out to play, and he’s never had another man look at it quite like Adam is now. He’s a little apprehensive, but the sound of absolute want that comes out of Adam’s mouth makes him forget everything except that Adam’s still got his clothes on, and that’s not fucking fair.

He start to reach for Adam, planning on taking his shirt off, but Adam takes hold of his writs, and Tommy’s breath catches when Adam’s hand tightens enough for him to feel a little real pressure. He sees determination ripple all through Adam’s body, and this is the Adam that Tommy’s seen flashes of; this is the Adam that makes his dick start leaking.

“I want to do this myself, but I want you to watch. I want to watch you watching me.”

So Tommy watches and doesn’t hold anything back. He licks his lips when Adam’s shirt comes off. He moans right out loud when Adam unbuttons and unzips his jeans. He thinks he even whimpers when Adam bends down to take his shoes and socks off. But when Adam runs his thumb between the skin of his belly and the band of his briefs before he pulls them down, Tommy can’t help taking his own dick in his hand and giving it a slow pull. 

Adam walks the two steps that are separating them, never taking his eyes off Tommy, and there’s not one bit of shame between them. When they’re together again, Tommy can’t get over the feeling of Adam’s skin against his. They kiss again, longer and deeper than before. Then Adam’s picking him up, carrying him to the bed, and it’s the whole world, right in this little space.

“You’ve never done this with a guy before, have you?” Adam asks, and Tommy doesn’t have the breath for words, so he shakes his head no. “I don’t have a lot of experience, but I’ll try to make it good for you.” If the way Adam’s hands wandering along his sides and back are any indication, Tommy thinks it’s gonna be really fucking good for him. “Just tell me if something doesn’t feel right, okay?”

Between the way Adam’s hands feel, so big and strong, holding him so close but still tender, and the way his lips feel as they kiss every inch of Tommy’s body, he has to remind himself more than once to breathe. Twice he feels the prickle and burn of tears starting, and he tries to tell himself that there’s no crying in sex, but there is when it’s this perfect. 

He gets to explore Adam, too, and he tries to find all the places that make Adam arch and moan and even squirm in a good way. He learns that he can bring a tear of ecstasy to Adam’s eyes, too.

It feels like they go on for hours, getting to know each other’s bodies, before they even move on to the next step. He never thought of foreplay as a main event before, but he thinks he could spend forever like this. It’s so fucking gentle and other worldly, and Tommy’s never experienced anything like it.

But then Adam’s mouth is on his nipple, and his back arches while his dick twitches, and he knows he wants more. More, and more and everything Adam’s got.

Adam must want more, too, because Tommy hears him pop open the top of the lube just before Adam takes his hand and pours some into the palm. It’s cold, and it makes him shiver, but he thinks that could be anticipation. Adam pours some onto his own palm, and pulls Tommy’s hand down to where both their dicks are trapped between their bellies. 

At first, they stroke both their dicks together, and that feels so good that Tommy wonders how long he’ll be able to hold on, but then Adam’s hand leaves the happy party, and Tommy’s ready to beg to have it back when he feels a slick finger circling his hole. He jerks a little then, and he loses his rhythm, but when he hears Adam whisper, “Trust me, Tommy. I’ll make it good,” he knows. He knows, and he trusts, but it’s just something he needs a second to get used to, because he’s never been touched there before, but it feels so fucking good, and he thinks this is one of those times that he should just breathe, just to slow his mind down a little.

When he has himself under control again, he tells Adam, “ ‘s good. I’m good.” And he knows he really is. Adam takes his time working him open, working him loose. He knows how big Adam’s dick is, and he hopes Adam works him far enough.

He’s right in the middle of thinking about how open he’ll have to be for Adam’s dick when he feels a flash shoot through his body. It feels like every nerve he has plus about a million more just came alive for the first time. He feels Adam stop, and he’s not gonna let that happen. “Whatever you did, you better fucking do it again right now. and then do it again after that, and again, and don’t fucking stop!”

“Liked that, huh? Just wait. I’ll make it feel even better.” Tommy swears he hears the sexiest chuckle come out of Adam that he’s ever heard, but he’s pretty inexperienced with sexy chuckles too. He does believe Adam though, when he feels the finger inside of him start twisting and turning, and brushing that magic place over and over.

He barely pulls his mind together enough to make words, but he manages to let Adam know that if they don’t move on to the next scene right the fuck now, this is gonna be his curtain call, because he’s gonna come any second.

Even though he’s the one who asked for it, he wants to cry when Adam pulls his fingers out. He thinks he set some kind of record for the time it took him to go from panicking over the idea of even being touched there to never wanting to feel empty again. 

He’s still got a hold of both their dicks, and Adam has to almost force him to open his hand. When he does let go, Adam pours more lube on both their hands before spreading it on his dick and Tommy’s hole. Tommy thinks he might be going overboard with the stuff until he feels the head of Adam’s cock pressed up against him. Then it’s panic time again, because he knows this is gonna work, he really, really does, but it doesn’t seem possible.

Then Adam’s pressing in, and it feels like too much. There’s pressure and and heat, and he feels like parts of him are gonna start ripping soon. He feels Adam stop and hears him say, “Breathe for me, baby.” 

He waits until the burn starts going away, and then he rocks his hips, just a little - just enough to let Adam know he’s ready. This time he’s more prepared for the feeling, and it’s not as bad. He still feels full in a way he never has before, but it’s a good feeling. Adam goes slow enough to keep the burn to a minimum, all the while telling him how beautiful he looks taking his cock.

When Adam’s all the way in, he stops again, and Tommy can feel the tremors running through his muscles as he waits for Tommy to signal he’s ready for more. It takes him a slow count of ten, but he’s ready, and when Adam starts moving, it feels better. It feels so fucking much better when he feels Adam’s dick brush across that spot inside that he thinks he’s either gonna pass out from pleasure or start singing Hallelujah, either of which would be embarrassing as hell.

Adam knows what to do, though. He takes his weight on one hand and uses the other to guide Tommy’s hand back to his dick. “I wanna see what you look like when you come,” is all he says, but it’s enough. If Adam wants to see him fall apart, he’s damn well gonna make sure Adam gets to see it.

It really doesn’t take long after that. He was so far past ready before they even started that he’s amazed he made it this long. He jacks his dick maybe three times before he feels himself coming over his hand and his belly. When he comes, he knows he’s not quiet. He arches his neck, pushing his head back into the pillows, and he thinks he probably screams Adam’s name loud enough for Sutan to hear downstairs, but it’s worth all the teasing he thinks he’ll get over it. He feels the release of all the tensions of last night and this morning when he comes, and he’s never felt freer or more exhausted in his life.

He wants to lay back and close his eyes for just a second, but he thinks he’d miss the most amazing sight that’s unfolding right above him. Now he knows why Adam wanted to watch him. There’s so much wild joy and power in the way Adam looks, and Tommy’s never going to forget this, no matter how many times it happens between them.

Later, when they’re holding each other close, his mind starts straying to the important, unpleasant business they still haven’t talked about. He doesn’t know how much time they have together, but he decides that he’s gonna enjoy every second they do have, and find a way to make the rest of his life as perfect as this moment.


End file.
